Let's Party 'til the World Ends
by She Who Cannot Be Turned
Summary: Crowley didn't even know Death even had a master, so when he met him, he was understandably confused and shocked. That reaction swiftly turned into disturbed and annoyed once the being introduced him to an identity confused Archangel in Witness Protection
1. Prologue

Prologue

Crowley had come to several conclusions in his long life. One, humans, in general, were greedy, moronic and easily persuaded. And they liked war. They say they don't, but really, they're more blood thirsty than most of the demons Crowley avoided like the plague.

Which brought him to two, the plague was a good thing. It provided endless amusement for Crowley and endless souls of hapless people looking to save themselves and/or their families from the dreaded plague. Really, looking back, all they needed was a good can of Raid and a bar of soap. No need for an eternity in Hell. Not that he would have ever told them that. Wasn't his job. He wasn't paid to be nice.

He wasn't paid to be evil either.

He wasn't paid at all, actually, which was really something he should bring up with the head honchos in Hell. When he was sure they wouldn't torture him just for looking at them. Which would never happen, so he would just have to deal with stealing and investing.

Three. The stock market only ever crashed when someone pissed off a demon with contacts. Or a demon in stocks. Or a demon. In general. Or if Crowley was bored and wanted to see people flail as they watched their money slowly disappear and then decided to throw themselves off of a tall building.

Or sell their soul to get it back.

See? Greedy. And Crowley was also resourceful. Which made up for not being paid.

Four. Living forever was not all it cracked up to be. It got boring. It got dull. And for some reason, if you originated in Britain, by the time you reached two hundred, your accent was Cockney. Without fail.

It was a shame. He quite liked his original accent. Though Cockney was more intimidating at times, he would admit that. And it was easy to charm people into selling themselves to you.

Five. America made people weird. He's seen it. No matter what happens it would twist people up inside their minds and make them batshit insane if they stayed there long enough. And he wasn't just talking about humans. Everything. If it stayed in America, it turned them weird.

Case in point, cowboys. Hollywood. Pilgrims. Demons. Vampires. _Teenagers_! Everything went mental. Which was why Crowley only stayed there when he absolutely had to. Most of the time, he went in, grabbed a soul and darted back out again. He blamed the one time he had to stay in America for a whole six weeks on the fact that he now had a live-in Hellhound.

Six. Technology is the work of Lucifer. Or at least, a demon called Nigel who specialises in addiction. Still, he made humans dependent on the most unreliable thing in the world. And humans _knew_ this, yet carried on happily with the knowledge that should anything happen that would stop all technology from working, then they would fail as a species. Again.

He came to conclusions every decade or so, whenever humanity changed so very obviously. Or when something happened that made him wonder how he had managed to live for so long and had yet to off himself. Because, really, Paris Hilton? Said it all really. _Or_ when he was bored.

In 2003, he came to another conclusion.

Wizards were weird. Dead wizards even more so. Wizards that had to take up the mantle of Death's Master were insane. And should consider changing their name to something much more interesting. Harry was a little too misleading and boring. Though it was marginally better than Derek.

Back to meeting Harry, however. It was a turning point in Crowley's life. And not necessarily for the better. Sure, that day gave him three close friends/confidents/lovers/whatever you would call them. But two of them were the most irritating beings on this planet. Death's Master, Harry and The Archangel turned Trickster, Gabriel, should never have been introduced. It was a cruel thing to do and were anyone ever to ask, Crowley was certain neither Heaven nor Hell would own up to it.

He also came to another conclusion not long after. Two conclusions actually. One, he should never have introduced Harry to Fantasy and Sci Fi literature and two, he hated _Good Omens_ and wished he hadn't planted the idea of a demon called Crowley into Pratchett and Gaiman's heads.

He was never going to tell Harry that.


	2. 2003

2003

_June_

Crowley hated being made to wait. Almost as much as he hated cheap suits. There was nothing wrong with shelling out a little more to get a nice, custom-made suit. Right now, however, his hatred of being made to wait was starting to inch up towards his hatred of cheap suits.

"Oh good! I haven't missed it!" Crowley spun around, and then frowned when the man standing behind him wasn't the businessman he had been waiting for. The man looked young, late teens to early twenties if that. He was scruffy, which was something that made Crowley sneer at him, paler than the last corpse Crowley had taken the wallet from and was wearing a ridiculously too-big-for-him black cloak. His pale face was framed by limp, greasy long black hair and a large pair of green eyes stared at him emotionlessly. In all, it made Crowley both uncomfortable and want a shower. The young man most certainly was not Mr Peters.

"Missed what, exactly? I don't recall ever having met you, and I certainly haven't made an appointment with you. Why are you here?" Crowley asked, sneer firmly on his face as he looked the man up and down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey! Cockney! Well, that makes me wonder what kind of 'appointment' this is," the stranger muttered to him, his own well-spoken English accent butchering his attempt at Crowley's accent when he said 'appointment'.

"It's no business of yours. I'd appreciate if you took whatever trouble you are considering back to the chavs that raised you, and leave me alone."

"Say's the cockney. Alright, Del Boy, no need to get snarky. I'm here for an appointment also. New at the job. Derek wouldn't appreciate if I had been late for this one as well. It's only my second solo mission," the stranger admitted, pouting slightly, before his blank look returned and he looked around them in a bored fashion.

"Well, you mind taking your appointment somewhere else?" Crowley asked, outright glaring at the annoying man now, really, the youth of today needed to be rounded up and shot.

"No, my appointment will happen here. Yours will happen here. We will have to just play nice. Deal with it," the man told him, shuffling slightly and then pulling a notebook out of his pocket, flipping it open to about a fifth of the way through it and then huffed at what ever was written there. "Why can no one keep time?"

"Tell me about it. Being late is a disgusting habit," Crowley muttered, checking his watch and hissing in distaste when he saw that Peters was now nearing twenty minutes late.

"Ah! Cutting it fine. My name's Harry, by the way. Thought you might like to know," the man, Harry apparently, told him, looking at something in the distance. Crowley followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes when he saw Peters followed closely by another, taller and more rough looking man, which immediately made the 'hunter' alarms in the back of his mind go off.

"Bollocks."

"Indeed. You know, wandering around Europe and Asia, not many people use that curse too much. It's quite nice to hear. And not expected at all in Southern France, but you take what you're given," Harry muttered, looking at the two men walking towards them. Really, Crowley should have suspected that there was a reason for the deal to be made away from the crossroads where he had been staking out victims.

"I take it you're here to collect some souls then," Crowley said, glancing at Harry and finally realising that the young man was clearly a new reaper. They did come in all sorts of appearances. Though they normally preferred old men or young women. He had no idea why, but had long ago considered it was the fact that they were dead, clearly insane and probably bored. Or they thought that either one gave their clients (he had also learnt that they did not appreciate the souls they reaped being referred to as 'their victims') most comfort. He imagined that telling someone they were dead or dying was much easier to do when the soul in question wasn't panicking.

"I am indeed. Two. Given you can see me, I'd say you're a demon of some sort. If you take into account the shady settings and the 'business deal' I'd say either crossroads or confused," Harry added, smirking at Crowley a little before turning his attention back to the hunter and Peters, who had now come to a stop a few feet in front of Crowley and (an apparently invisible) Harry.

"So, decided to nab yourself a demon, Mr Peters? Foolish notion, don't you think? Never heard of anyone succeeding in killing one of us. Well… not for a while at least," Crowley said with a wicked smirk, ignoring the emotionless chuckle from Harry.

"I wouldn't worry too much. Don't tell Derek, but I'm not here for you," Harry told him, just as the hunter spoke up, moving to stand a little in front of Peters.

"I don't need to kill you, demon, to send you back to where you belong."

"The Eastend?" Harry asked, sounding genuinely confused and making Crowley smirk in amusement before he managed to smooth his face and raise an eyebrow at the hunter, who was looking a little confused.

"And where, exactly, would that be?" Crowley drawled, giving the sense that he wasn't at all annoyed or bothered by the current situation. Which was half right. Given the small bit of information that Harry had given him, he wasn't bothered too much for his own safety. He _was_ annoyed however.

The hunter didn't bother giving him an answer, before Peters stepped up to his side and threw a flask of holy water at Crowley.

"That was a foolish thing to do," Crowley pointed out, ignoring the burning coming from the water on him and instead standing up straighter and glaring at the now nervous looking duo.

"Newbies! Oh, I love watching newbie hunters getting their arses handed to them. And you, my nifty little Cockney, are the demon to give them a right rollicking," Harry told him, and Crowley turned to face him slightly, though still giving most of his attention to the two that double-crossed him.

"A rollicking? How old _are_ you? I'm over a thousand, mate, and I don't use that word," Crowley pointed out, ignoring the confused and anxious looks that Crowley was now getting from the two humans given he was apparently speaking to thin air.

"Hey! It's a good word! Should be used more often. Besides, I'm… wait, well, technically, I'm twenty-two, but I died when I was twenty-one, so… I'm in my twenties!" Harry told him with a bright smile, though Crowley couldn't help but notice that his eyes were still completely blank. It was actually a little disconcerting. Crowley had met a fair few reapers and none of them had ever been quite as emotionless as this one seemed to be. It made the hairs on the back of Crowley's neck rise a little.

"Just a baby then? Well, shall we get this show on the road? I've got more souls to collect. Though it's slim pickings recently. No clue what has happened to make everyone so damned moral at the moment, but it's giving me a right headache," Crowley grumbled, turning back to fully face the turncoat and his hunter friend. Both of whom were now looking completely uncomfortable.

"If it helps, the hunter goes first. In um… hang on… fuck. Lost my page. Wait…" Crowley turned back to gape at the reaper next to him as he frantically flipped through the notebook in his hands, muttering curses under his breath in several different languages, which impressed Crowley a little.

"Any time you like," Crowley muttered, keeping an eye on the hunter, who was starting to look twitchy. Sure, the man's gun wouldn't kill Crowley, but it would bloody well hurt him.

"Ah ha! Right, okay, hunterman is gonna die in about four minutes or so and um… huh, right, twitchy-guy is going to die in fifteen minutes. You enjoy torture?" Harry asked him, closing the notebook with a snap and then shoving it back up his sleeves to wherever it goes up there.

"Helpful," Crowley murmured then, looked back at the hunter and sighed, "I really don't have the time for you. Quite literally, I've been told I have four minutes." Crowley explained, ignoring the snort from Harry as the reaper walked away from Crowley and over to stand nearer to the hunter, looking like he was waiting for something. Crowley had worked in the business of souls for long enough to know _exactly_ Harry was waiting for. He didn't want to disappoint.

Snapping his fingers together on one hand, he called his hellhound to him and looked at it, shaking his head when he saw it had a chewed up bone from it's last victim in it's mouth.

"Oh! Puppy! Where'd you get it from? It's kinda… adorably fugly," Harry exclaimed, looking at the dog in fascination. Crowley just rolled his eyes and then looked at the hound seriously.

"Ignore the insane reaper. The hunter is your victim," Crowley told it, then turned to smirk at the hunter, who started to slowly back away from the growling he could hear but couldn't actually see.

"This looks like it could be fun. Never seen a hellhound mauling victim," Harry muttered, brushing against the hunter as he walked past him to stand to the side of Peters.

"You haven't trapped me, you haven't tried to incapacitate me. I must admit, I'm actually disappointed. How many demons have you come across before me?" Crowley asked, looking at the nervous duo in front of him, "going by your continued existence, I'm going to take a guess and say I'm your first."

"Hope you're gentle. First times can be brutal," Harry muttered, glancing at his bare wrist as though checking the time, then nibbling his lip a little. "You've got a minute and a half, by the way."

"Better get the show on the road then. This might come a little too late, but most hunters at least find out how to trap demons before they start hunting one," Crowley drawled, then gave a sharp nod to the hound and stepped back to watch as the dog launch itself at the hunter, latching it's teeth around his throat, immediately cutting of the pained shout and taking the man to the floor with it's weight. As soon as the dog hit the hunter, Peters gave a startled cry at seeing the man be dragged to the floor by an invisible force, and he fell back, away from the massacre that was happening in front of him.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…" Crowley looked over to see Harry had once more moved closer to the downed hunter, whose struggles had started to become more feeble. As Harry said one, he reached forward, flicked the hunters forehead, patted the Hellhound and stepped back, glancing to his right at something only he could see, then looking back at Crowley, almost making Crowley feel trapped by the bright green eyes. "Ten minutes to have fun with him. I'll be back in seven."

Crowley then blinked and watched Harry step backwards into a shadow caused by the bridge they were standing underneath, and disappeared. Crowley looked to Peters, who was staring at the hunter's body in shock, then to the Hellhound, that was cleaning its paws of blood and waved it away. The motion made Peters look up to him, eyes wide in fear.

"You made one hell of a mistake messing with me, Peters," Crowley growled at the whimpering man on the floor in front of him.

"Wh-what… what are y-you going t-t-to do?" Crowley raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest as he sneered down at Peters.

"You set me up. You tried to send me back to Hell. I'm going to make sure that you realise that was the biggest mistake you've ever made. You won't get a chance to make a similar mistake twice," Crowley told him, then he crouched down to face Peters.

"D-don't… P-please."

"Oh shut up," Crowley muttered, moving quickly to wrap his fingers around Peter's neck and then stood up, dragging Peters with him, ignoring the wheezing gasps as the man tried to breath. "See, I don't like it when a deal falls through. I hate it even more when said deal fell through because the mortal in question decided to turn on me and try to send me to Hell!"

Whimpering, Peters tried to get out of Crowley's grip, frantically scrabbling at Crowley's wrist, his legs struggling, trying to touch the floor. Crowley just sighed and then glanced around him. Eyeing the supports of the bridge, he grinned, which made Peters whimper and try to struggle even more, as Crowley effortlessly dragged the man over to the support and slammed him into it.

"Oh good, I haven't missed much!" Crowley looked over his shoulder to see that Harry had come back, looking just as bedraggled as he had when he had left. "Oh, where's the puppy?"

"So you can feel emotion then," Crowley drawled, looking back at Peters, who was now looking over Crowley's shoulder to try and see what or whom Crowley had been talking to.

"Not really, no. Well, I can feel annoyance and curiosity for certain lengths of time. Most other emotions just kind of… fade off. Apparently, disappointment stays with me for a few minutes. It's one of the longer emotions," Harry told him, walking over to them and looking at Peters, then back at Crowley. His face, Crowley noted, was once more blank and emotionless.

"You just gonna be standin' there? Not gonna help?" Crowley asked, looking at Harry and making Peters stop looking over his shoulder to look in the direction of where Harry was now standing.

"I really shouldn't… But, what the hell, they kept me waiting. That's just rude!" Harry muttered, a frown crossing his face before it returned back to its normal blank state and making Crowley briefly wonder if he could start doing that to unnerve his future targets. His attention, however, was soon swiftly brought back to Peters, when he let out a startled, scared cry when Harry touched his shoulder.

"Can he see you now?" Crowley asked, looking at Harry and noticing that Peters was whimpering and looking at Harry in fear.

"Sure can! Though, he doesn't see what you see. Bloody soulless demons," Harry muttered, before grinning at Peters. "Don't worry, Mr Peters. You have four and a half minutes left and then this will all be over. Not really long to torture you, so it should be rather painless. In theory."

"What does he see?"

"Me, reaper-style. I figured that most people expect the black cowl and scythe look, so… I go with a theme when using a glamour for knob-gobblers that I don't particularly care about reassuring."

"Black cowl and scythe? You have a scythe? First reaper I've actually seen with a scythe," Crowley muttered, absently patting his pockets and making a triumphant noise when he found what he was looking for.

"Who said I was a reaper? Three minutes! Look, Mr Peters, see the brightside, the more he delays the inevitable, the longer it will be until I take you down to Hell. And let's be honest, that _is_ where you are going. Apparently liars, cheats and traitors aren't really looked fondly upon in any religion. Well… do pirates have a religion?" Harry asked, and Crowley turned to glance at him incredulously.

"Did most of your brain cells die when you did? Pirates ain't around anymore. Besides, he summoned me, part of him must follow a religion with demons. I'm going with some line of Christianity."

"Oh, no, don't know much about that religion. Kinda bores me. I'm immortal and even I don't have enough time in the world to consider reading their book of tricks. Still, they are the ones with Hell, right? Right. So, Mr Peters, fifty seconds. Shall we start a countdown? Wait, a gun? You said you had been around for centuries."

"Millennia, actually."

"Right, that. Why a gun?"

"I'm cockney. We have a system. The Mob had something right. You ever meet a Kray? Right interestin' ideas they had. Bullet to the brain seems the fastest route to go when you don't have much time to incorporate an electric paint stripper to the ankles and work your way up," Crowley told Harry, though he didn't take his eyes off of Peters, pressing the gun to the sobbing man's temple.

"An electric paint stripper? Oooh, how's that work? Oh, wait, hold that thought. Better pull the trigger, Mr Demon," Harry told him, and then tapped Peter's forehead second before Crowley put a bullet through the man's skull.

"Bit disappointing that I didn't have time to torture him a bit more. Cheers for the heads up." Crowley put the gun back in his pocket and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his face. Peters body was slumped on the floor, leaning back against the stand he'd been pressed against.

"Yeah, 'bout that, any chance we don't tell Derek? He won't be impressed with me for having helped you out," Harry asked him, looking at him pleadingly, and though Crowley thought the puppy-dog eyes were impressive, he also thought that the emotionless eyes they were pleading with, were something to be worked on.

"Deal."

"I don't have a soul, just thought I'd remind you of that one. But cheers! You know, for a demon, you are really rather sharply dressed. Best-dressed demon I've ever met. Not that I've met many, mind. I prefer the Eastern countries. Warmer. And their gods are far more interesting. Well, those ones and the older ones from the North." Crowley blinked and then smirked as he decided to focus on the compliment he'd been paid at the start of the strange reaper's ramblings.

"Thanks. Nothing wrong with a nice suit. Everything wrong with a cheap one, but a well-made one makes all the difference. Helps in making deals. I prefer to go to business-types," Crowley told him, and Harry nodded, then glanced down at Peters' body.

"I'd better deal with his soul. Wouldn't wanna piss anyone else off more than I possibly already have," Harry admitted to him sheepishly, wrinkling his nose and nibbling on his lip. Crowley wondered just how new of a reaper he was. Because there was no way he was anything other than a new reaper. Well, or a very incompetent one.

"How long have you been a reaper?" Crowley asked, watching Harry crouch down next to Peters. Harry just looked up at him, a brief flash of mischief show on his face before it was once more impassive.

"Seriously, when did I ever say I was a reaper?" Crowley didn't have time to do any more than gape in confusion before Harry disappeared to wherever it was he went with the souls.

"What is he if he's not a reaper?"

* * *

_August_

_'Thought you might be interested to learn that desperate businessmen in Cyprus normally end up at the following coordinates. This could be beneficial to you… given technically, it's a crossroads. ~ H.'_ Crowley read the note and then glanced at the coordinates provided with a raised eyebrow.

It hadn't been the first random note he had received by Harry, and he had yet to find out how the elusive being managed to find him every time and managed to leave the note on the desk of wherever Crowley was staying at the moment without being caught by Crowley himself, or one of the lesser demons lingering around the place.

Still, he wasn't complaining. Every time he had decided to take Harry up on the notes, there had indeed soon been a desperate businessman showing up, most of the time under the advice of an elusive man giving him directions of somewhere they could find help. Safe to say, in the past two months since meeting Harry, Crowley had had no lack of souls, and other crossroads demons were beginning to wonder how he was getting so many deals.

Not that Crowley was ever going to tell them. Harry was his informant and he certainly wasn't going to give him up to anyone.

Besides, each time he took a soul, he gained a little bit more money as well. Making deals with businessmen was one way to know how the stock markets were going to change, and which companies to invest in at certain times. His bank accounts were looking very good right now.

No, he definitely would not be passing Harry up to anyone else. And not that Crowley would admit it to anyone, but the little reaper-man was growing on him a little. Even given the fact that he hadn't seen the man face to face since June.

Right now, it looked like he was going to Cyprus. He'd been thinking about going to a warmer climate for a little while. Now he had the prefect excuse to do so.

Crowley hadn't really been grateful to the fact that it was really only in America where demons seemed to linger around a set crossroads, marking them as off limits to most other deal demons, and that the rest of the worlds crossroads were for the pickings of whichever demon got the call first. Before Harry, it had been hit and miss, and a bit of an annoyance trying to decide whether it would be more beneficial to stay around one crossroad, or travel to a select few. Now that Crowley had an inside source of sorts, he didn't have that dilemma.

* * *

_October_

_'Word to the wise, avoid America. Sources close to me say that a certain freakishly coloured eyed demon is starting to come out of the shadows once more. Said sources also informed me that you and he aren't on the best of terms. Thought you might appreciate the advice. _

_As per, the coordinates will take you to another poor, hopeless soul that needs a little pick me up and is willing to pay whatever price they will be asked for. Enjoy Russia ~ H'_

Crowley reread the note to make sure that he had read it right, and then grumbled. Azazel really needed to learn when to give all that shit up. Really. The stupid, fake little angel that wished he could make some sort of hell spawn by dribbling some drops of blood into the mouths of a select few babies. Really? Crowley had a couple of other ideas on how to go about taking over Hell. None of them included actually bleeding for people or having to follow a human.

Still, he was going to follow Harry's advice, like normal. Azazel was a moron, no one was disputing that. But he was a moron with more minions than Crowley currently had. He was going to leave that annoying demon up to someone else.

"Oi! You lot, pack up, we're heading to China!"

* * *

_December_

Crowley was in his modest manor on the south coast of France, but even on the Mediterranean, it got cold in the winter months. He was there, however, because of yet another note by Harry and had just finished sealing another deal. And hopefully boosting his bank account by a nice sum.

"Oh good, you're still here. I was hoping I'd catch you here. How's business? Getting some good souls?" Crowley turned around from where he had been looking out the window and saw Harry leaning against the doorframe to the room, smirk on his face but no other sign of what he was feeling was noticeable.

"You should know. Cheers for all the tipoffs by the way," Crowley told him, taking a cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket and offering one to Harry, before he took one out for himself and lit it when Harry shook his head. "There a reason you're showing your face for the first time since June? You normally just leave a note."

"Technically, I don't. I get someone else to leave the note. I'm too busy sightseeing and convincing down and out businessmen to hand up their souls to a certain someone that I know could possibly help them in their time of need. You know, like… that story you people like to tell. Samaritan or something like that," Harry told him with a negligent wave of his hand.

"Someone else to do it for you? Doesn't sound like something a reaper can achieve," Crowley pointed out, and Harry huffed, sending Crowley an annoyed glance.

"I honestly expected a little more subtlety from you, Crowley. Fine, I'm not a reaper. I never claimed I was. I just never expanded on that," Harry told him with a scowl firmly on his face and showing some emotion for the first time for longer than five minutes.

"So what are you then? You still have yet to share that little bit of information. And on that note, who's Derek? After all, if I'm not supposed to give away your secret that you helped me, I'm gonna have to know who it is I'm not meant to be talking to. You get me?" Crowley stated, and Harry just sent him a blank, unimpressed look that made Crowley want to fidget. Thankfully, he managed to suppress that urge.

"Derek? Well, to be honest, even if you had told him, there wasn't much he could do about it. I'm his boss. Well, his master, if you want to get technical about it," Harry said, huffing and stepping further into the room, smirking at Crowley when he just tilted his head to the side. Because he honestly had no clue what the hell Harry was going on about.

"So who is Derek? Your…"

"Servant? Well, technically I think he's my slave, given I don't pay him. But well, he's Death, you know? How do you give Death a salary? Maybe minion would be better."

"Minion would imply he has a choice in following you, does he have a choice?" Crowley asked, ignoring, for the moment, that Death was apparently also called Derek. There were some things that he just couldn't get his mind around straight away. Death having a name was one of them.

"Er… no. No choice. Right, he's my slave then. Guess that covers that one. So anyway, I am Harry, as you well know. But I'm also Master of Death. That is my actual title. Wizards never were all that imaginative at naming things. I mean, Christ, their last dark lord had the moniker 'You Know Who', made him sound like he had a damned Super Injunction," Harry said, and Crowley snorted in amusement, wondering just how that would have worked out. The bit about wizards wasn't news to him. He had lived a long enough time to have come across his fair share of the race in his time. Harry had a point, all the wizards that he had met seemed to be lacking in the imagination area.

"So you… what? Have control over Death? That mean you actually _are_ immortal?" Crowley asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Yup. Derek can't take me on to wherever the hell it is that bad little wizards go at the end of their time. Or good ones. Or, you know, anyone. Whatever, I can't die. Well, actually, I can die, I just can't _stay_ dead," Harry said with a small shrug, looking around the room with a bland, polite interest that made Crowley wonder both why he was there, and what he was looking at (or for).

"Okay, so, you're the Master of Death. Who's called Harry, which, very bland name, but beggars can't be choosers. Is that why you came here? Just to tell me that you're actually Death's Master and not a random, sort of shit reaper?" Crowley asked him, ignoring the possibly mock insulted look Harry shot him, though he really was versed enough in Harry's facial expressions to actually know if that insulted look was serious or actually was mock. He was impressed with himself enough over being able to get the insulted part.

"No, actually. I was here for a reason. You do know what the date is, right?" Harry asked him and Crowley found he had to think about it for a few minutes before sighing and looking at the possibly mentally challenged reaper.

"New Years Eve," Crowley said dully, and watched as an actual smile appeared on Harry's face before it faded moments later. Still, it was an actual emotion and Crowley felt he should feel a little proud of that.

"Exactly! I'm here to drag you away to celebrate the New Year with myself, Derek and another acquaintance? Friend? I don't know; he's someone else I talk to a lot though. Possibly even more than I talk to you," Harry told him earnestly, and Crowley narrowed his eyes at Harry suspiciously.

"Who?"

"Um… goes by the name Loki? He's a god. Really quite fun to have around. Agrees with my love of kittens, though he's not entirely convinced on the frog front," Harry mumbled to himself, before looking up at Crowley once more and shooting him an expectant look.

"And you want me to meet this god? Why me?" Crowley asked him, and Harry just shrugged and toed the ground nervously.

"I have no other friends. You and Loki are… well, you're my friends I guess. So, come one. We can get drunk, share embarrassing stories, get to know one another? Or, we can get to know one another at least. I can't get drunk, and I don't think you or Loki can either," Harry said, and Crowley smirked at him and nodded his head. He then sighed and shrugged.

"What the hell, why not? I'm not doing anything else. Lead the way. Where are we going exactly?" Crowley asked, when Harry beamed at him and practically skipped over to place a hand on Crowley's shoulder.

"Why, where else? London Town, Old Boy! Pip pip!" Crowley really hoped he wouldn't live to regret agreeing to this.

* * *

"You must be Crowley! Heard all about you! I've got to ask, what _do_ you do with the souls?" Crowley barely had time to get his bearings over where Harry had dragged him (and in the most uncomfortable way possible, might he add) when a man who was actually shorter than he was – though still taller than Harry – pounced on him, getting a fine dusting of sherbet all over the shoulders of his suit. His tailored, perfectly fitting, suit.

"Pardon?"

"The souls? You make a deal, you take their souls… then what?" The man, who Crowley took to be Loki, asked him and Crowley shot Harry an annoyed look, getting to see a brief glimpse of amusement in Harry's eyes before he turned to talk to a taller, older man in a very nicely cut suit next to him. The feeling he got from the older gentleman told Crowley exactly whom it was that Harry was talking to.

"I… no clue. I'll be honest with you, I have millions of them, but I'm hanged if I know what to do with the buggers. I tend to go to soul poker games on occasion. Get rid of a few, gain a couple more. They make nice hanging lanterns in the summer," Crowley admitted with a small shrug, before he narrowed his eyes at the man, "I'm going to say that you're Loki."

"I am indeed! Good to meet you! Gotta say, you're much less stuck up than some of the other demons I've bumped into. I was a little leery when little Harrykins claimed he was going to bring a crossroads demon along. But I never thought you'd be quite as old as you are," Loki admitted, looking Crowley up and down before he smirked. "You met Derek yet?"

"No, Harry is possibly the worst host in history. And I went to a party held by Stalin, I know bad hosts," Crowley told him, throwing a glance at Harry and wondering who everyone else was. And why Loki was cackling at him.

"You think Harry is the host of this? Don't be stupid! I have no idea who's party we're crashing, but that's basically what we're doing," Loki told him with a wide grin, and Crowley snorted, not in the least bit surprised at that little bit of information.

"So you've met Loki then, Crowley? Having fun? This is Derek, by the way. He gets a little protective of me at times, likes to know who my friends are. Make sure I'm not being bullied and all," Harry told them as he joined them, standing next to Crowley as he watched the people around them cheerfully getting drunk and completely unaware of who they were partying with.

"Loads of fun," Crowley drawled, reaching out and snatching a glass of champagne from the passing waiter. "Whose party are we crashing?"

"Um… Tony Blair's? Whoever the Prime Minister of Britain is," Harry said with a small shrug, smiling widely (if a little insincerely) at a passing woman in a formal dress.

"Hmm, you'd think he'd know how to throw a better party, wouldn't you?" Loki muttered, following Crowley's example and grabbing a glass of champagne the next time another waiter passed them by, Harry also taking two and passing one to Derek.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? So how's tricks? Literally with you, Loke's," Harry said, throwing an actual genuine smile at Loki and getting a wide one in response and making Crowley wonder if he wasn't the only one to feel special when he made Harry actually feel an emotion.

"You know how things are going with me. Seeing as ninety percent of the souls I collect come from your doings." Crowley drawled, and Harry sent him a beaming smile and then turned to look at Loki.

"Meh, you know me. I've been working on setting up a couple of good ones. Sticking to my old routes recently. For some reason, the people of Norway are being a little too cocky recently. Not that I'm complaining," Loki added hastily, draining the rest of the champagne and swapping the empty glass for a new one as another waiter passed.

"Master, I should leave. There's a reaper that needs some help. You know how to reach me should you need me," Derek murmured to Harry, before he sent Crowley and Loki measuring looks – making Crowley wonder if he would have to sleep with one eye open later that night – and stepped back to disappear into the shadows.

"Well then! Now that dad's left! Shall we go have some real fun? After all, how am I to know if I can truly trust you both?" Harry asked them with a smirk. Crowley glanced to Loki to see if the god had any idea of what Harry was talking about, but was only met with an equally baffled look.

"Er… how would you find that out? Not that you can't trust us, I mean, I can't speak for Crowley, but I don't have any plans to screw over the guy that has absolute and total control over Death," Loki said quickly, and Crowley nodded his head, completely in agreement with the trickster. Really, who would be stupid enough to mess with Death's master?

"Well, so you say, but who's to say you're not just trying to lure me into a false sense of security, don't worry, you'll enjoy my way of finding out your true intentions quite enjoyable," Harry told them, slowly leading them away from the party. Crowley glanced at Loki, shrugged and mentally decided that there really was no choice in following the strangely charismatic man.

"So where are we going?" Loki asked as all three stepped out of the grand ballroom that the PM had been holding his New Years party, and Crowley couldn't help but wonder the answer to Loki's question as well.

"Well, Crowley's place look nice! We can go there!" Harry said with a decisive nod, not really waiting for Crowley to give his agreement – though were to be asked, then of course they could go to his place. Wasn't like he was going to be living there for much longer. Taking a deep breath, Crowley cringed a little when Harry used whatever mode of magical travel reapers seemed to use and took them to Crowley's current home.

He briefly wondered if you had to be dead in order to actually not feel ill via that mode of travel. Though the thrilled look on Loki's face put that theory in its place. All thoughts of being dead and travelling left his mind swiftly when he took note of what room Harry had brought them to.

"My bedroom, Harry?"

"Told you you'd enjoy it."


	3. 2004

2004

_February_

Crowley glanced up from the book he was reading and barely refrained from the groan that wanted to escape him upon seeing Loki standing there, smirking at him mischievously.

"What do you want, Loki?" Crowley asked in a drawl, placing his book down and straightening up in his seat. Loki just grinned silently and bounced over to throw himself into the free chair opposite Crowley's at his desk. "What is it? Stop grinning at me like that. You look like one of those bloody creatures Harry is so fond of."

"A cat?"

"No, a frog. What is it you are here for, Loki?"

"Fine! I just think you could do with a couple more friends around you, don't you agree? Come on! Admit it! All these dim demons can't exactly be stimulating company for one such as yourself!" Loki exclaimed, and Crowley hated himself for even mentally admitting that the insane god had a point. Sighing loudly, Crowley leant forward to rest his forearms on his desk and look at Loki.

"Say I agree. What is it, exactly, that you think you can do to help that? Train my lackeys in the art of stimulating conversation? For you to achieve that, you'd have to be able to carry a conversation on in the first place," Crowley said dryly, and Loki gasped and clutched at his heart in mock pain.

"You wound me, Crowley! I thought were friends! Certainly felt like we were _something_ the other week when you had your cock in my ass," Loki told him with a leer, and Crowley actually rolled his eyes.

"Fine, what do you suggest I do then?" Crowley asked, admitting mentally that he had started to view Loki, Harry and _Derek _at his friends. Which just made him want to cringe. He was a demon. A crossroads demon! The next in line to be top demon, if only Lilith would roll over and die already. He didn't need or want friends. Certainly not the insane trio he was now lumbered with.

"Oh! That's simple! We have monthly get-togethers. Once a month me, you and Harry can have a little get together. You two are British, so we can have tea and crumpets or something."

"I can't stand crumpets," Crowley grumbled, silently promising that he would hunt down whoever the feck started _that_ stereotype for Brits and then slowly torturing them.

"Well… I'm sure we can think of something suitably British to appease you. But we're doing this. Harry has already agreed. Derek muttered something about being busy on that day, though I have no clue how he knew what day we'd be meeting on. I mean, we're all pretty well known and er… not exactly popular. So it wouldn't be wise to always meet in the same place on the same day/time," Loki mused, and Crowley quietly groaned and asked himself why he never thought of the excuse of being busy before he had been drafted into this.

"Fine, when is the first little get-together?" Crowley asked, resigning himself to the fact and sighing as he felt his non-existent soul shrivel up and die.

"I thought you'd never ask! But now that you have! Well, the first meeting should be next week, Harry said that no one of import would be dying then and that he hadn't scheduled for anyone to be tortured by him in frustration – do you think he actually does that?" Loki asked and Crowley just blinked at him before he shook his head and shrugged his own confusion.

"Not sure. Wouldn't surprise me," Crowley admitted, and Loki snickered before he shuffled to get more comfortable in his chair, moving to place his feet on Crowley's desk.

* * *

_April_

Crowley sent Loki a glare when the god automatically hoarded all the miniature chocolate meringue cakes onto his own plate, leaving none for himself or Harry, whenever the strange being appeared.

"You know, I don't know why I even bother trying to teach you manners. Do you have any idea of when Harry is supposed to be getting here? Don't! Don't touch that until you've wiped that sugar off your fingers!" Crowley exclaimed, watching as Loki reached to pick up a jacket Crowley had left on the chair next to Loki. Which really was a mistake, but he wasn't really thinking about it all that much at the time.

"No clue. And really, Crowley, you need to lighten up a little. Terrify a local drycleaner into cleaning it if I get sugar on it. Or, you could just try dusting it off," Loki told him dryly, and Crowley glared at the god, moving to quickly move his jacket out of Loki's reach.

"Or you could just refrain from touching it," Crowley muttered, turning to look when he sensed someone entering the room, seeing Harry walk away from a shadowy wall. "You could use the doors like normal people, you know."

"We're not normal people, why kid ourselves?" Harry said, moving to sit on the chair around the table. Crowley paused in pouring Harry some tea, wondering when it became normal to have a monthly meeting of tea and scones with the Master of Death and the Norse Trickster god.

"He has a point. So, where have you been?" Loki asked, looking at Harry curiously. Even Crowley felt curious when Harry groaned a little.

"Ugh, Hubert Selby Jnr died today, do you know how hard it was to convince the man that he was dead and really needed to move on. Bloody stubborn man. He's lucky I like _Requiem for a Dream_ or I'd have just left him there to turn into a bloody spirit," Harry muttered. Crowley just felt stunned that Harry was holding on to this feeling of annoyance for as long as he appeared to have been.

"Wait, you reaped Selby Jnr? Oh, that's awesome! Do you go to all the high class reaps?" Loki asked Harry eagerly, making Crowley wonder what the god was up to.

"Not all of them. Only the ones I have an interest in. I wanted the man's autograph before he died. There are some perks to holding control over someone's death. Why'd you ask?" Harry asked, having pulled a small dark blue note book out of his sleeve which Crowley assumed had various autographs the man had collected, before it disappeared in his sleeve once more.

"So… should, say, myself and Crowley mention someone who we'd like the autograph of, you'd be able to get it us?" Loki asked, and Harry shrugged, poking at a scone, before quickly reaching over and snatching a meringue from Loki's plate.

"Cheers. And if they're dying, then yes, I can get their autographs for you. Otherwise, I have no reason to see them." Harry admitted, before he quickly shoved the whole treat into his mouth before Loki could get it back, causing Loki to make a small indignant sound.

"Well, how would we know if they were going to die? I'm not lingering around people's houses to find out if they're about to kick the bucket." Crowley grumbled, though he was intrigued and wouldn't mind boasting that he had the last autograph of a couple of people.

"Ah, well, if you gave me an idea of who to look out for, I can tell you when someone that meets that is about to die." Harry told them with a small shrug, and Loki smiled widely.

"Brilliant! It's a deal!"

* * *

_June_

Crowley looked up when Harry walked over to where he was watching a successful dancer in the Russian Ballet who's five year deal was soon to be up.

"Huh, she doesn't have long left, I note. But, must be one of yours? No one scheduled to pick up the soul," Harry commented and Crowley nodded, looking back to grin when he saw the woman look around her in shock as she heard the sound of growling. "Bit early, aren't you? She's still got three hours and twenty-seven minutes by my watch."

"My hounds like the hunt. Gotta get 'em running. I like to start early. Gives the mutts some exercise," Crowley told him, before he finally turned his full attention to Harry. "Why are you here? It's not time for our monthly get-togethers and I told Loki that I refused to hide him. In fact, I didn't even want to know what he did to you."

"It wasn't me. He annoyed Derek somehow. Neither one is talking. I think it involved that time when Loki managed to get drunk and tried to seduce Derek before giving up and sleeping with me. As for why I'm here," Harry said, grinning at Crowley, who just narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He'd decided not to ask about Loki seducing Death. Really, he just didn't want to know. "Here!"

"What's this?" Crowley asked, taking the piece of paper from Harry and then glancing down at it. When he noticed the signature, he grinned and looked up at Harry. "He finally died then?"

"Indeed he did! Now, I do need to find where Loki is hiding. I've got five days and then Ray Charles is going to die," Harry told him, and Crowley snorted, but placed the autograph into his jacket pocket making sure not to crease it over the signature.

"No clue where he's hiding, but I'd check somewhere with a lot of sugar. Cheers for this, Harry."

"Aw, Sweetie! No problemo! Gotta dash, have fun with the chase!" Harry told him, before pressing a hasty kiss to Crowley's cheek and running full tilt into the shady wall.

"One of these days, he's going to forget to travel through the shadow and just smack into the wall," Crowley said, looking at his Hellhound by his side.


	4. 2005

2005

_March_

Crowley glanced around the room he had appeared in upon finding where Harry was hiding out. Hiding out was possibly not the right phrasing, given he doubted Harry really hid from anything, but it was the only way of putting it other than 'randomly traveling around and hoping to not get completely and hopelessly lost before someone could come along and save him'. This time it looked like Harry was back in Japan, somewhere that he liked to go apparently. Crowley had yet to build up the courage to ask him why. He didn't feel he was ready for the undoubtedly weird reason just yet.

Still he had a need to speak to Harry, and possibly Loki if anyone was able to pin him down for longer than a day, so he'd hunted the man down and found him.

In Japan, apparently.

At least the man no longer thought Hong Kong was in Japan. That was an embarrassing conversation for all involved.

Spotting Harry standing over a, quite probably recently, dead body, Derek standing next to him with a vaguely exasperated look on his face, Crowley snorted and made his way over. Harry, clearly sensing Crowley, looked up when he was half way there and smiled blankly.

Now, Crowley had pondered that once, and had even had a conversation about it with Loki. Harry could smile blankly. They had no idea how he did it, but he did. He smiled at you, but you knew behind the smile it was completely blank. Harry was feeling and thinking absolutely nothing. Or he was thinking about what he was going to have for breakfast three Fridays into the future. It was a skill that Crowley sometimes wished he had. But considered that if it meant he turned as batshit insane as Harry, then he was fairly happy just grimacing to get the idea across that he was vaguely pleased to see someone.

"Crowley! What can we do for you? Oh dear, you weren't related to him were you? It was entirely by accident. Derek mentioned something about my being able to just… kill with a touch and I had to try it out," Harry babbled to him, and Crowley took the time until Harry finally stopped to glance down at the dead body. Of a elderly Japanese man. Who looked nothing like Crowley beyond being male.

"I have no relation to him whatsoever. Kill whoever you like, doesn't bother me. Well, maybe not the people whose souls I own. Giving them back is always a tiresome fare, the paperwork gives you hand cramps."

"Right! So no visitations or anything. So you must be here to see me! Or Derek. Oh, did you want to see Derek?" Harry asked him, tilting his head to the side in a way that told Crowley Harry was actually trying to work out if Crowley would look good with Pink hair.

He didn't.

Blue suited him better, according to Loki.

"Actually, I'm here to speak to both of you. Do you have any way of getting Loki here?" Crowley asked as he followed Harry through the small house to the dining room and took a seat at the table.

"Derek can go fetch him! Loki doesn't like it when I go get him. No idea why," Harry mumbled. Crowley glanced at him and then looked over at Derek in question, who just shrugged and then disappeared, apparently deciding to go and fetch Loki without actually being asked to do so. "So, any decent deals made recently?"

"Slim pickings recently. Actually, that was one of the reasons I need to speak to you all about. It links to it at least," Crowley murmured into his cup of tea that Harry had conjured up for them – and that Crowley had heated given Harry tended to forget that he was the only person in existence that liked cold tea. Except the Americans.

"Hmm, let's hope Derek does dither when fetching Loki then, shall we? Because I'm dying of curiosity!" Harry stated in a deadpan tone, which belied nothing at all given the man possibly was curious, he just had no way of showing it.

"Really?"

"I actually have died of curiosity once… very peculiar feeling. Not all that painful. Well, it wasn't for me. I was curious about a guillotine, so, you know, I never really had much time to consider pain before I was having my head reattached and I was waking up again. Derek looked very put out by the whole thing. No idea why."

"You beheaded yourself?" Crowley suggested for a reason Derek could have possibly have been narked. He considered that if he found his boss beheaded by his own doing, then he would probably be a little put out about it.

"Aw! You guys missed me so much you had Death himself come bring me to you!" Crowley actually managed to withhold his groan when he heard Loki's overly enthusiastic greeting, though it was a close thing when the irritating god draped himself over Crowley's shoulders.

"Why must you insist on doing that?" Crowley grumbled, wiping at his cheek when Loki pressed a sloppy wet kiss to his cheek.

"So what's the what?" Loki asked, giving Harry the same treatment and then dropping to sit in the only chair available to him, given Derek had already taken the one to Crowley's right.

"No idea. Crowley came to me; apparently he has something he needed to tell us both. Hence why Derek was sent to collect you and bring you here," Harry explained with a small shrug. Loki glanced at him and then both he and Harry turned to look at Crowley, Derek already having been watching him calmly.

"Well, since we're all here and all, I suppose there ain't nothing keeping me from sharing," Crowley said, leaning back in his seat and trying to work out how to word it. When he really couldn't think of a way, he just mentally shrugged and decided to say it as it was. "Things are fucked in America and there are some disturbing whispers from down below."

"Down below?" Harry asked, looked from Derek to Loki and then back to Crowley, who just raised an eyebrow. Really, he was a demon, where did Harry think he was referring to when he said 'down below'?

"Hell."

"Oh! There. Right. Yeah, don't really care much for that religion. All boring really. There are no exciting gods to hang around with and let's be frank, the worshippers need to crack a smile or two. Plus, they really don't like wizards. What's that about? I mean, sure, some wizards are a little hard to like, you know, strange looking, weird penchant for torturing people and cackling whilst they did it. That kind of thing. But really, burning them at the stake? Now that's just taking things a little too far, don't you think? So! What's going on in the oogedy boogedy parts of Christianity?" Harry asked, and Crowley took a few minutes to actually work out what the bloody hell Harry had said. Given the silence from the other two, they were also having the same problem as him. Sadly, even after having managed to work out what was said, Crowley's mind seemingly got stuck on one thing.

"Oogedy boogedy parts?"

"Yes, well, those. So? Hell? What's going on? Wait, is it Hell that is all burn forever, arg and all that jazz?"

"Sounds about right, yeah. Well, that's not actually all of Hell, but some souls burn," Crowley admitted with a shrug. He couldn't help but think the demons that made their victims burn were highly unimaginative. "That's not my point though. There have been whisperings about plans being set into motion and so on."

"Plans? Sounds mysterious," Loki said, grinning widely. Crowley just rolled his eyes, but didn't comment on the fact that Loki had tensed a little before his trickster persona came back in to play. Crowley just decided to store that to the back of his mind until the right moment came along to question the god about it.

"Quite. Thing is, whatever they have planned, they ain't sharin'. And with demons? That's not a good thing. Most demons I know gossip like bloody washer women. So whatever is going on, it's going to be big. And probably not be good news for anyone involved."

"Do you have any idea of what it could be? At all?"

"It involves Azazel and Lilith. I can't dig too deep on the Lilith side, given she basically owns me. And Azazel is a twat, quite honestly. Thinks he's so great because he's a damned Grigori. Seems to forget that some of us have been demons longer than he has," Crowley grumbled, even saying the damned Grigori's name left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Ah, so you don't actually know anything that might be happening?" Loki asked, his serious side having taken over once he realised just how bad things could get. Something Crowley was highly grateful for, given they only had Derek and Harry to also help. Derek was fine, but Harry…

"What's a Grigori? Is it a name? Like Gregory? Ah, I knew someone whose mother was dyslexic and spelt her name wrong. Very amusing. Is it like that?" Harry asked and Crowley didn't even have the energy to restrain his sigh.

"Sure, that's what happened," Crowley grumbled, ignoring the snickering coming from Loki. "So given Azazel hates the sight of me, and Lilith holds my entire existence in her hands, I can't do anything at all. I did manage to find out one thing though."

"Oh?" Crowley looked to the side when Derek spoke for the first time since bringing Loki.

"It has something to do with something that happened a couple of decades ago. Something about special children. I'm not too sure to be honest. I tend to stay away from America. Which is what I'm suggesting we all do, to be quite honest. Shit is about to hit the fan. We've got more chance of getting out of things intact if we stay out of America."

"But that would also leave us completely unaware of what was going on," Harry pointed out, and that was when Crowley remembered Harry vaguely telling him once that he had been heavily involved and practically led a war when he had been alive.

"Harry has a point," Derek stated calmly. Crowley had to agree and when he met Loki's stare over the table, he knew the trickster did as well.

"Fine, I think we might be good so far to just stay away. Nothing is actually happening just yet. I'll keep watch on everything going on. Once things start to pick up, I'll get in touch with you all again." Crowley stood from the table and looked at the other three, getting a nod from the other three. Locking his gaze on Harry, he narrowed his eyes and made a small decision to find more out just so he could make sure they would all be safe.

"If any of us hear anything, we'll let you know as well. We really should get phones…" Loki muttered, leaning forward in his seat to rest his chin on his crossed arms.

"I have a phone," Crowley stated with a roll of his eyes. The look of surprise from the other three really didn't surprise him. "I'll give you my number, shall I?"

"That would be useful. Though er… I doubt mobile phones will work for me, and probably won't for Derek either," Harry admitted with a small sheepish grin. Crowley just shrugged, writing his number down three times on a piece of scrap paper he'd found in his pocket (he needed to have a word with his dry-cleaner) and handed one to each of them.

"Try, see if it works. Text me your number should it do so. I really need to get going. A deal is going to be up in about an hour or so, so I need to start the hunt. I'll contact you all should I hear anything," Crowley said, then turned on his heels and left the room, and county, without looking back. He had things to plan.

* * *

_July_

Crowley glanced down when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Harry had been right about himself not being able to have a phone, but both Derek and Loki had had no problems getting one. Which was both a blessing and a curse.

Loki needed to stop sending him random texts whenever he was bored.

And speaking of Loki, the text he had just received had been from the god and was asking him to meet. It actually looked serious given Loki hadn't used any random smiley faces or hearts. Or dancing rabbits.

He had no idea what Loki's fascination with rabbits was.

Checking the place they were meeting, Crowley looked over at the two demons tagging along behind him and then disappeared from the small manor house he was currently occupying in his home country. He arrived outside of a fancy looking Italian restaurant.

In Paris.

Only Loki would choose that location.

Walking inside, he squinted a little to allow his eyes to get used to the change in light and then walked to where he saw Loki sitting with Derek, ignoring the concierge when they tried to stop him.

"Where's Harry?" Crowley asked immediately upon sitting down, looking at the two suspiciously over the table.

"He's not here. We wished to speak about he current problem in America without him," Derek admitted with a small, barely noticeable shrug.

"Right, and why would that be? Not that I don't agree, mind. It's always easier to discuss anything to do with America without someone who thinks leaving a state to visit another is going abroad being there," Crowley added, recalling one such conversation he had had with Harry the previous month.

"We decided we needed a plan of action to keep Harry out of America," Loki finally said, all three having fallen silent when the waiter came to take their orders.

"Does sound like a good idea. I'd love to know how you're going to accomplish it though."

"Well, so far he's never been there because he's never really needed to go. And when he has, to get autographs and such, he's only appeared in the room I was in. I doubt he even realises he was _in_ America in the first place. So it might not be as hard as it sounds," Derek explained. Crowley looked at him and then narrowed his eyes as he thought about it.

"Why not just do that all the time then? Why do we need a plan to keep him out?" Crowley eventually asked them. He really wasn't seeing the point in this meeting. Harry would never be able to get to America without one of them pointing the way anyway. There was no one on earth more directionally challenged than that man.

"Crowley does have a point," Loki pointed out, and Crowley smirked, glad that someone was seeing his side of things.

"You think it would work? He'd find a way for getting there, just to see what the problem was."

"He'd have to find a way there first. Without us taking him there, he has no chance. He'd end up in New Zealand."

"He thought New Zealand was in America," Derek muttered, and Crowley couldn't stop the snort of amusement at hearing that.

"See. My point exactly. I agree that we need to keep him out, but I don't think we have much to worry about should we not take him there. Making plans to keep him out, therefore, strikes me as being a little pointless," Crowley stated, taking a sip of his wine then looking at the two in front of him to see if they agreed with him.

"Fine, but should my master find a way to get into America without our help – which, given he's like a toddler in that he gets into everything, it is highly likely – then I am blaming you and will expect you to be the one to get him out again," Derek told Crowley. Crowley just nodded his head and decided it would be safer to go back to eating his food than protest at all.

Plus, it probably would have been his fault.


	5. 2006

2006

_November_

"So the father hunter Winchester man-thing is dead," Harry announced upon joining them at the table.

"Hello to you too, Harry. I'm fine, Loki's got IBS, how are you?" Crowley asked, dodging the swat Loki aimed for his head, then smirking at the groan that movement brought.

"Wait, how have you got Irritable Bowel Syndrome? You're not human!"

"But he is irritable," Crowley added, once more smirking when Loki tried to hit him but ended up groaning in pain again. "So where's Derek?"

"He's dealing with a pissy reaper. She had the task of taking the older son Winchester on, but was hijacked by a demon or something. I don't know, I didn't bother asking for details. I just got the news that a Winchester was in Hell," Harry admitted with a careless shrug. They both turned to look at Loki when he made a strange startled noise in the back of his throat.

"Loki?"

"Ah, so… things have started to be put into motion then? Bugger. Oh sheesh, I'm starting to talk like a Brit. That sucks," Loki muttered to himself, shifting the let his head drop to the table.

"Wanna share why that sucks? Nothing wrong with sounding like a Brit. We're refined," Harry pointed out, sounding and looking insulted that Loki implied otherwise.

"Not so much that. More that there is apparently a righteous man in Hell. You do know what that means, right? We planned for this out come. Well, it's about to happen. So I guess I should come clean, huh?"

"Come clean about what?" Crowley asked, frowning in confusion, which just built when Harry didn't seem confused at all.

"Who he is!" Harry stated brightly, and Crowley decided that, given his choice in friends, he should just roll withe the confusion as it was clearly going to become a state of being.

"Wait, you know?" Loki asked, sounding shocked. Crowley moved to sit back in his seat and got comfortable. The two would eventually clear up what they meant. Crowley just had to be patient.

"Of course I do. I know the true name of everyone I meet. Certainly know the names of the people I sleep with. I've known since the first moment we met. So, going to tell Crowley just who he's been sharing a bed with? Oh, this is going to be good!" Harry said with barely contained glee that made Crowley very nervous.

Loki swallowed loudly and then anxiously turned to face Crowley, who just raised an eyebrow at him in question.

"Come on, can't be that bad can it?"

"I'm Gabriel."

"Or it could. Shit."


	6. 2007

2007

_February_

"So we need someone to be over there, then? Just, right now, we're running a little blind with regards to the goings on over in America," Crowley stated, reaching over to grab a scone and then taking the clotted cream quickly before Loki used it all.

"Good point. Any ideas how we'd go about that? I've assigned many of our reapers to keep any eye on things, but given how busy they are, they do miss things on occasion," Derek admitted, getting a wrinkled nose from Harry, clearly showing what he thought of their reapers.

"How about we send Loki?" Harry spoke up, glaring at Crowley when he then added the jam _on top_ of the cream. Apparently a cardinal sin. Crowley just rolled his eyes in answer and took a bite out of the scone.

"Why me?"

"You don't want to prank those two hunters you were talking about? Really?" Harry asked the other man, sounding rightly disbelieving. Crowley was with him in that disbelief actually.

"Oh, well, when you put it like that, sign me up! What shall I do?"

"Easy! You become my Cordelia!" Harry said with glee in his voice. Crowley blinked, completely lost. Loki looked nothing like a Cordelia. Possibly more like a Gwendolyn. Not that Crowley put much thought in what Loki's name would be were he female.

"Cordelia? Really? You think I look like a Cordelia?" Loki asked, running his hands down his side in a mock shapely figure gesture.

"Sure, but not what I meant. You know Shakespeare? He had a character in King Lear, Cordelia. Everything about her isn't important, but there are certain Shakespeareans who believe Cordelia and another character, The Fool, are one and the same because they never appear on stage together. So, you can be The Fool, yet also Cordelia."

"Ah! So we're going the whole 'be not the flower, but the serpent underneath it'? Nice!" Loki exclaimed with a grin. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"That's Macbeth, but I'm sure you've grasped what Harry was trying to get across. And also insulted every Shakespeare fan around."

"Well, they're boring anyway. So I'm being a Cordelia, huh? How'd I do that?" Loki asked, waving away the fact that he'd just called both Crowley and Harry boring.

"First you become the Fool. We'll discuss the Cordelia side of things should we need to. It's something Derek and I have discussed."

"Oh? Something you're going to share with myself and Loki?" Crowley asked, sipping at his tea calmly, whilst inside he was awash with curiosity.

"Not just yet. If it doesn't need to brought into fruition, then there is no point in telling you. Have no fear, should it need to used, you two will be the first to know. Definitely," Derek reassured them in Harry's place, given Harry was currently preoccupied with pulling strawberry pieces out of his jam. One day the man would realise you could buy jam that had no lumps of fruit in it. Crowley wasn't going to be the one to tell him though. Watching a grown man get defeated by jammy fruit pieces was far too amusing for him to do that.

* * *

_May_

Crowley and Harry stood to the side watching silently as Death and a reaper - whose name Harry had admitted to not knowing and not particularly caring to know - took the soul of Sam Winchester. Harry rolled his eyes as Dean sobbed over his younger brother's corpse and then carried it to one of the abandoned houses. Crowley and Harry silently and invisibly following every step of the way.

"Loki's gonna be really narked that he missed this, you know," Harry commented lightly, both safe in the knowledge that, now Sam's soul had been taken over, no one was around to hear them or any incriminating information they may speak about.

"Hmm, he said some about Hershey's and possibly Cadbury's in a fight. Not sure what it was about. He sounded positively gleeful over it all, so I didn't actually dare to bring myself to ask," Crowley muttered, frowning when Dean ignored the older hunter in the room with them, not taking his eyes off of Sam's body.

"Hershey and Cadbury are both dead. They died before _I_ did. How's he gonna make them fight? Will it be like a Celebrity Deathmatch for chocoholics?" Harry pondered, neither one of them looked away from the goings on in front of them.

"It's Loki, who knows how he'll achieve it and what will happen. Safe to say it'll be… sticky," Crowley murmured, before he frowned and turned all of his attention to the happenings in the room when Bobby walked out. "He's up to something."

Harry made a noise of agreement, chewing on his lip then turning to face Crowley, "What though? That's the question. Well, that and how will it affect us?"

"Whatever it is, it's going to affect us somehow. Everything these two denim-clad nightmares come up with seems to end in disaster for us," Crowley growled. Harry snickered and shrugged.

"I don't know, Loki had some fun with them a few months ago," Harry pointed out, grinning widely as though he knew exactly what Crowley was thinking. Which, Crowley considered, he probably did.

"Exactly, Loki had fun, came back to us completely hyper and made our lives a misery. He's only just calmed down. And by calmed down, I mean, he's only just decided to leave us be and bother some other poor saps."

"Burnham Wood is on the move again," Harry suddenly muttered, dragging Crowley's thoughts away from the menace that was Loki and to the matter at heart. And just in time to see Dean send the body of his brother one last look before running from the room.

"What is it with you and Shakespeare?"

"Classics just don't get old, Crowley. Which is why I'll never get old!" Harry informed him with a smirk, then glanced at Sam's body, "So… follow moron one or stay with recently departed moron two?"

"Well it's not like a corpse is going to be up to much, is it?"

"With these two? Who knows?"

"True. Still, even alive, I've actually known corpses more exciting than that one," Crowley commented with a nod to Sam's corpse.

"Right, that settles it then. Let's go find out where Moron One headed then. What are their actual names again?"

"Buggered if I know. I call 'em Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. He's Dee," Crowley added as he pointed to Sam, knowing Harry was about to ask which was which. "Don't you have that little book to tell you?"

"I do… but that requires work, and given one of them is dead anyway, who cares?" Harry asked with a small shrug. "So, off to see what Dum is up to then? Are you sure we can't interfere?"

"Derek said no."

"Fine. Come on then."

* * *

Crowley hissed in anger and sneered when he watched the damned hunter summon a crossroads demon to make a deal to get his brother back. He felt nothing but a vague sensation of anger and disgust when he finally agreed to getting just one more year in return. A quick glance to the side showed Crowley exactly how Harry felt about the proceedings.

"I've got a soon to be living dead unfun zombie hunter to bring back, I'll meet you back in Cold Oak when he gets back," Harry informed Crowley just as Dean moved to kiss the demon to seal the deal. Crowley just nodded and watched the hunter with shrewd eyes whilst Harry disappeared with a small scoff.

"Unfun zombie? Does he just mean human?"

* * *

"Really, can we not to kill them both and be done with it all?" Crowley groaned as they watched on in complete disbelief as the gates to Hell were opened and hundreds of demons escaped.

"I'm down with that," Harry agreed emotionlessly.

"We can't. You know we can't. Their names have yet to be added to the book-"

"Again."

"Again. All the same, no matter how many times their names have already been in the book before, they're no longer in there now. We cannot get involved," Derek informed them and pointedly ignored when Harry stuck his tongue out at him childishly.

"Well it's good to know I've got even more demons to avoid and ignore. And I might have been mistaken, but I'm pretty sure Lilith is now completely out," Crowley grumbled, glaring at the two Winchester brothers, even though they couldn't actually see it.

"Huh, well… does that mean the plans need to be adjusted, pushed forward or just left alone as is?" Harry asked. Not one of the three of them took their eyes away from the small group of hunters trying to close the Hell Gate.

"I supposed, given they actually did manage to kill Azazel, that we should be a little thankful for that," Crowley admitted, nose wrinkling with both disappointment and relief when they finally managed to close the gate.

"Hmm, bit of a shame as well… that demon was kinda good with the witty come backs," Harry admitted, smirking when Crowley rolled his eyes and huffed. "Sulking really doesn't suit you. Loki's gonna be upset he missed all of this."

"I believe Master Loki is still having trouble between which is better, Hershey's or Cadbury's," Derek informed them and Crowley snorted.

"Figures."

"How long can it take to realise that Cadbury's is better?" Harry asked in genuine confusion. Derek stared at him and then shook his head, clearly used to it.

"Personally I prefer Thorntons."

"Oh! Now, they are nice! I'd forgotten about those," Harry nodded in agreement. "We should tell Loki this."

"It might stop the Celebrity Deathmatch though, and then he'll have nothing else to distract him from annoying us."


	7. 2008

2008

_February_

"Harry, what can I do for you?" Loki called out brightly as soon as he saw Harry walking towards him. Harry smiled back and walked over t stand next to him, both leaning forward to watch the human casually carrying on with their day, unaware of plans being made by beings higher up on the food chain to them.

"Well, I was wondering if you had any plans for any time soon," Harry said, smiling at him in a way that made Loki realise what Crowley meant when he said harry made him feel like he was playing Russian Roulette but without the need for a gun.

"Um, not any more. You caught me whilst I was looking for a new target. Why do you ask? What do you need me to do?" Loki asked, not quite managing to rid the wary feeling in his stomach form the smile on Harry's face.

"How would you feel about messing with the Winchester's again?"

"Oh? What do you have in mind?"

"Sam needs to get used to his big brother copping it, right? Well, how about we help with that? You know, get him used to it," Harry said, the smile on his face far too gleeful considering the topic of conversation. Not that Loki was much better, given he was practically cackling with glee at the ideas.

"And you'd be helping me with this?"

"Of course! What kind of Master of Death would I be if I didn't help you with killing someone over and over again? Well, I'll lend you a reaper at least. I did promise to stay out of America after all," Harry added with a huff, pouting a little and making Loki snicker.

"Good know. So, any ideas on ways to kill someone?"

"Well, when I was younger, I always had a love for those Looney Tunes cartoons. I always wanted to flatten someone with something. Think we could work that?"

* * *

_May_

Crowley looked up from his cards to meet Harry's stare. Both then turned to look at Loki and Derek. Judging from the similar looks of stoney shock on each of their faces, Crowley figured they had felt the same shock go down their spine that he felt.

"Winchester's deal's come to an end," Crowley explained. Judging by the look of realisation to cross their faces, they had all wondered but weren't too sure. However, Crowley made his living taking souls and making deals. He knew exactly what it felt like when a big deal came to an end. And Dean Winchester's deal? You didn't get much bigger than that. Well, except that deal with Stalin. That had been a rather big deal. Crowley had been rather impressed with himself for making that one.

"So now what?" Harry asked. Crowley shrugged and looked to Death and Loki to see if they had any idea of what they could do to plan now. No doubt something bad was going to happen soon, now that Dean Winchester had been taken out of the game.

"Well… We can't interfere with anything if we want to stay off the radar, right?" Loki asked them, getting nods from them all. "Right then, so we just need to make sure we're aware of what's going on. And maybe, just maybe, interfere a tiny bit."

"How are you suggesting we do that?" Crowley asked, leaning forward a little to look at Loki shrewdly. The Archangel turned pagan god might come across as a fun loving, dappy moron, but Crowley knew that underneath that mask hid an insane genius with sociopathic tendencies. Didn't make Crowley act any nicer to him mind. Crowley knew he wasn't on Loki's radar in terms of getting revenge.

Something he was quite thankful about.

"Ah, I have many ideas, little demon! Listen up and I shall explain! Yes indeed!" Loki told them, clapping his hands in glee. Crowley felt a small niggle of unease tug in his stomach.

"We're listening, get on with it," Harry told Loki in a bored tone. Crowley grinned and hid it behind his cards when Loki looked over at him with a scowl on his face.

"Right! So, Crowley, you can get back in to Hell and out again any time you like, right? You have a literal 'Get Out of Hell Free' card, right?" Loki asked him, and Crowley nodded his head cautiously. He didn't want to know why Loki wanted to know this. "Good to know! So then! First port of call is Hell. Crowley needs to go and see where Deannie boy is."

"Why?"

"Just so we know he's actually down there!"

"We do. I just said he was. There, no need for me to get myself killed by going in to Hell. That was easy. Next plan?"

"Crowley…."

"I'm not doing it. He's in Hell, trust me," Crowley told him in a no nonsense tone. He smirked when Loki pouted but accepted his answer.

"Fine, fine! So next on my list, check on the one remaining Winchester," Loki told them. Crowley looked at the god and tilted his head to the side.

"Why?" Harry asked exactly what Crowley was thinking. Why did they need to both with the final Winchester?

"Because, who knows what he'll get up to without his brother around. We need to know just what we'll be up against should we ever find ourselves working against him," Loki explained calmly. Crowley narrowed his eyes at Loki in suspicion.

"What makes you think we'll be up against him?"

"He's Lucifer's vessel! Come on! We know Dean's the Righteous Man, or whatever it is they're calling him upstairs. We also know that he won't last in Hell for long before he breaks. First seal, remember? Lucifer is gonna get out and he's going to head straight for his vessel. We need to know exactly where that vessel is going to be when that happens!"

"Loki's got a point," Derek politely told them and Crowley hated himself a little for agreeing.

"Fine, I see your point. So we check on the Moose. What else? Is there anything else we need to do to be prepared?"

"Not much else we can do. I mean, you're a demon and pretty high up on the ladder, but I doubt even you would be able to go in to Hell and give Dean the strength he'd need to deny the offer of getting off the rack."

"No, I wouldn't be able to do that, you're right. I wouldn't want to either. I'm high up up here, but down there, there are a couple of demons that won't stop to consider my position before killing me."

"See? Not worth it. So we keep an eye on Moose Winchester and the general goings on in America. I think we can agree though, that we have a vague idea of just what grief can do to Sam," Loki said, making them all think back to the somewhat insightful Mystery Spot prank Loki played on the brothers.

"Good point. Well then! If that's settled, shall we show our cards? I'm ready to wipe the floor with you all and I really want that manor you put down, Crowley," Harry said. Crowley just raised an eyebrow at him. No way was Harry's hand better than his. He was getting his hands on that mint condition, first edition copy of War and Peace. Not that he actually read the novel. He didn't know anyone that _had_. It was a dreadfully dull novel. But then, most classics were. The more of a classic it was, the less people that had actually read it, in Crowley's opinion.

Ulysses? No one would rave about that book if they'd actually read it. And having the longest sentence in published literature is no excuse for bad grammar.

* * *

_September_

Crowley looked up from the book he was reading when Harry stormed into his office with a furious look on his face. Dog-earing the page, Crowley placed the book on the arm of the chair he was sitting in and then looked up at Harry, deciding to just wait it out until Harry finally exploded and told him what was wrong.

Moments later, Derek entered the room looking just as annoyed as his master, and beyond the vague thought that his office was slowly beginning to resemble Clapham junction, Crowley mostly wondered if he could get Loki here as back up before Derek killed him.

Or Harry did.

He wasn't too sure which one he would prefer.

"Dean has been brought back from Hell," Derek finally said. Crowley flinched when the explanation made Harry made a wordless yell of anger and threw one of Crowley's priceless vases across the room.

Crowley wasn't too sure what to say, but hit the send button discreetly on his phone telling Loki to get to his office as soon as possibly. He hoped the god/archangel/whatever got there in time for Crowley to hide behind him.

"Do you know who did it?" Crowley asked, not entirely sure what else he could ask. Or if there _was_ anything else he needed to know. Really, Dean - that's what Derek called him, right? He assumed Dean was the dead Winchester. Not the father. The other dead one - getting out of Hell was really quite significant and just proved that the end really was… nigh.

Crowley really hated cliches.

"The angels, who else? Presumptuous, pompous, freakish balls of light that they are. Wankers! The lot of them! I hate them almost as much as I do demons!" Crowley kept silent on the matter that Harry hadn't actually known much about angels, still didn't, other than things mentioned about them in popular culture. Well. Dogma.

"Hey now! No need to get personal!" Crowley looked up feeling a huge sense of relief wash over him when Loki stepped out of the shadows with a smile on his face. "So what have my illustrious brothers done now to piss off the Master of Death and… Death?"

"Dean's not in Hell anymore," Crowley told him before Harry could start on another rather insulting and vaguely terrifying rant about hating demons and angels with equal fervour.

"Huh, my brothers really are gearing for the end of the world then? Anyone know if 'the righteous man fell'?" Loki asked, looking from one to the other. Crowley just shrugged, he had no idea if Dean had broken whilst in Hell, but if he'd had the dubious pleasure of being on Alistairs rack, then he would put money on him doing so.

"Can a man whore with more vices than he knows what to do with actually be a 'righteous man'?" Harry asked, moving to finally sit down on Crowley's desk, which just made Crowley's eyebrow twitch in annoyance. Not that he was going to say anything however. He wasn't insane.

"Apparently so. So? Did he? Did he make 'em squeal like a pig?"

"You're never allowed to pick the movie on movie night," Crowley spoke up, not even having to look up to know that Loki was pouting.

"In answer to your question, Loki, we believe he did indeed break. In fact, we think that your brothers waited until he had before they brought him back," Death explained to them, putting a stop to the impending argument between Crowley and Loki.

"Well shit," Loki said eloquently, dropping down on the couch next to Crowley and looking exactly how Crowley felt.

"My thoughts exactly.

"So big brother is gonna join the party soon then? Bollocks."

* * *

_November_

"I hereby call this meeting of Lover's In League Against Satan, to order! Does anyone have anything they feel they need to tell us first? Crowley? Harry? Derek?" Crowley rolled his eyes and just shot Loki an unimpressed look. Really, who the hell gave him a gavel?

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" Harry asked dully, and Crowley snorted when Loki actually pouted once more for having his childish antics pointed out. And really-

"Lovers in League Against Satan?" Crowley drawled with a raised eyebrow. Loki just grinned back at him and then drew his eyes up and down his body in an unabashed leer. Crowley just shook his head.

"I feel it describes us perfectly. So stop bitching already. You're in America the most recently, do you have any news about much?" Loki asked, finally moving back to sit at the table they were all sat around.

"On the demon front, it's disturbingly quiet. Though I have gone to spy on those hunters a few times. I hate to have to tell you, Loki, but one of your younger brothers might be a little special needs," Crowley informed him with a fake look of sadness on his face and a small shake of his head. Loki just looked at him for a beat and then burst into laughter.

"Have you met me? We're all special needs! My Father wasn't all that perfect when he first started out. I think he may have tried out Autism on us angels, just to see what that would do. Which sorry angel did the Winchster's get?"

"Cas-something. Probably Cassiel or some inane name that ends with 'iel'," Crowley muttered with a shrug.

"Oh! Little Cassie has finally grown his wings and left the flock! Very nice. And no, my father wasn't all that imaginative when it came to naming us, either. The one time he tried to be imaginative with the naming, he came up with Yakasaganotz-" Harry sputtered and burst into laughter, interrupting whatever Loki might have been going to follow that with. Even Crowley started to snicker at that unfortunate angel's name.

"That poor guy! Oh, I bet you picked on him something rotten!" Harry gasped out, and Crowley wondered just how long this little bout of amusement he was feeling would actually last. Maybe he should time them one day.

"He may have been the only angel truly happy about my disappearance," Loki admitted with a wicked grin on his face. Crowley snorted and shook his head, deciding to get the conversation back on track.

"So, back to America and the state it's currently in?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, go on," Harry said and Crowley mentally calculated that his amusement must have lasted a good three minutes.

"Well, like I said, most demons have been suspiciously quiet. Only occasionally will they set a trap leading the Winchesters nearer and nearer to where Lilith wants them to be. However, the biggest demon activity is also the one that's mostly being overlooked. Quite probably deliberately on the part of your brothers," Crowley said with a nod to Loki.

"What's that then? And what are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum doing about it? Surely they're not ignoring it," Harry stated with a confused frown on his face.

"Dum lives up to his name and remains oblivious, Dee is the main target of the demon. The demon Ruby has her nasty little claws in Dee and is feeding him her blood. From what I can gather, he's already addicted."

"Well shit. Maybe we should have stopped that whilst Dum was still warming his cockles in Hell," Loki pipped in, wrinkling his nose in thought.

"Would your brothers have overlooked that? I don't think they would have," Derek pointed out calmly, ever the voice of reason. Really, Crowley thought that was the biggest reason he came to these meetings. Without him they'd have all probably decided that storming Heaven and Hell would be a perfectly reasonable idea and for Harry to rise an army of zombies.

That man had a strange obsession with zombies.

And frogs and kittens.

Crowley dreaded the day he came up with zombie kittens and zombie frogs. That would just be a little too odd for words.

"So… basically, the final seal is going to be broken and there's really nothing we can do about it?" Loki stated and Crowley slumped in a his chair with a sigh.

"That sounds about right, yes."


	8. 2009

2009

_March_

Harry stepped out of the shadows in the room of the most recent soul they had to collect and glanced over at Derek.

"So he's another Winchester, huh?" Harry asked, looking away from Derek to the young male in front of them. "Adam? Kinda… boring, ain't it?"

"His brother's are called Sam and Dean. Hardly an imaginative family when names are concerned. Not that you can speak, of course, Harry isn't the most unusual name either," Derek pointed out. Harry just scoffed and waved the accusation away.

"Hmm, fine, whatever. How come he doesn't have his father's surname?" Harry asked, looking down at the book in his hand, he looked up just in time to see Adam get taken down by one of the ghouls. "Ouch, looked like that hurt."

"Given he's about to die, I'd imagine that's not really one of the the concerns on his mind," Derek mused. Harry just turned to look at him in disbelief before turning back to watch Adam's last moments.

"Really? I think that might be one of the things in the forefront of his mind. You know 'Oh Shit, that hurt. I'm going to die and no one will be able to help me. Oh woe. Oh me. Oh my.' And so on," Harry said, not taking his eyes off the groaning man.

"You might have a point there. I've never died, nor been in pain, so I can't really judge."

"You've never actually been alive though, have you? So you can't die anyway. Oh, wait, time to get his soul now, right?" Harry observed just as the ghoul snapped Adam's neck. "Oh crap, why do I also wait a second too late."

Harry grumbled and stepped through the laughing - Harry refused to call it cackling. Voldemort had a good cackle. This ghoul _laughed_. Maybe guffawed - ghoul and reached down to grab Adam's soul. Giving the confused soul a hearty pat on the shoulder, Harry then turned to Derek and shrugged.

"We send it on it's way?"

"Him."

"Whatever. Do we? Or can we keep it?"

"Send it on."

"Fine," Harry grumbled, before turning back to the now scared looking soul and stuck his tongue out before giving it a small nudge and watching as the soul faded and moved on. "Always a little anti-climactic, don't you agree?"

* * *

_June_

"He's here!" Loki announced in a sing-song voice as soon as he entered the room Crowley was currently sitting in, planning on how to teach some upstart demon a lesson that it would never forget. No one kicked at his Hellhound. Well, no one but him.

"Who's here?" Crowley asked in a bored tone. Maybe he could strip the demon of it's skin and cover it with salt?

No, too clichéd.

"Who do you think? Luci boy has finally entered the building. Or whatever. Change that something witty if you want. I'm too tired to care," Loki admitted with a groan, moving to sit down on the couch next to Crowley and shifting so he was lying with his head in Crowley's lap.

Crowley just looked down at Loki with a raised eyebrow, "What's made you so tired? And why are you lying on me?"

"You're comfy and hiding myself from the onslaught of brothers that have arrived on the scene. Really, one guy gets out of Hell and everyone up top seems to think it's a damned party. Is nowhere sacred anymore? I'm beginning to think Harry's right in his opinion on my brothers," Loki grumbled, shuffling around a little before settling once more when he was comfortable.

"Glad you think you can use me as a giant pillow then," Crowley said dryly, before he let his hand drop down and start to comb through Loki's hair. "Have you gone to Harry about possibly getting him to hide you from your brothers?"

"I might have to soon. I'm going to try and carry on without needing his help first though. Not that I think Harry would mind helping me out," Loki admitted, pushing his head into Crowley's hand when he paused in his petting for a moment.

"Don't leave it too late, Loki," Crowley murmured, and Loki sighed happily when Crowley began to gently scratch at his head.

"Ooh, just-just to the right a little. Ah, yeah, there. Perfect. Magic fingers, Crowley, you have magic fingers," Loki told him, which just made Crowley chuckle in amusement. "So, what were you doing before I came here."

"Wondering how I could punish one of my lackeys for kicking at my Hellhound. Any ideas?" Crowley asked, smirking when Loki looked up at him with a gleeful grin.

"Why, Crowley, you even have to ask? They didn't hurt him, did they?"

"No, they were lucky to have a damned leg left actually," Crowley told him, smirking as he recalled the mess of the demon's leg after his pet had finished with him.

"Hmm, good to know. I like Snuggles," Loki murmured, grinning when Crowley glared at him.

"He's not called Snuggles."

"He answers to it."

"A Hellhound cannot be called Snuggles."

"Don't see why not," Loki said with a small shrug.

"It's not a respectable name for a Hellhound!"

"Psht, it's perfectly respectable. And have you seen the size of him? ANyone that disagrees, he can eat!"

"Fine. See it your way. You have told Harry and Derek about Lucifer's arrival, right?" Crowley asked, suddenly realising that Loki hadn't mentioned Harry's reaction at all.

"Course I did. Told 'em I'd tell you so they could carry on making arrangements or whatever. Oh, Harry also said that we're to meet in the Leaky Cauldron next month at our normal time. Says he and Derek have another part of the plan to share. I like the Leaky Cauldron. We should meet there more often."

"Harry prefers not to, remember? Those wizards are still a little pushy when it comes to Harry and they refuse to accept he's dead. Makes things awkward when people 'recognise' him," Crowley reminded the man lying on his lap. Loki just pouted a little then nodded with a sigh.

"True. Think it has something to do with the whole Cordelia/Fool plan?"

"Most probably," Crowley agreed, "so what ideas did you have for the little wanker that kicked Snuggles?"

"See! The name grows on you!"

* * *

_July_

Crowley entered the wizarding pub a few minutes before they had agreed to meet and looked around to see if he could spot any of the others there already. Spotting Derek sitting at a table in the shadiest corner, Crowley head over to him. He couldn't stop the snort of amusement when he saw Harry sitting next to Derek with his hood up and sporting a handle-bar moustache.

"Is the 'tache really needed?" Crowley asked, grinning when Harry just pouted.

"That's what I asked," Derek drawled, waving at the busy waitress to come over and take Crowley's drink order.

"Any idea on when Loki is going to get here?" Crowley asked once he'd placed his order and the witch was walked off, giving them their privacy once more.

"Shouldn't be too long. Any news on your part?"

"Not really. The usual. Demons getting cockier now that Daddy's up top. They're possibly beginning to notice I'm distancing myself somewhat. Your brothers have started to make themselves known," Crowley stated, looking up at Derek, who sighed and nodded.

"Unfortunately they do not have much choice in the matter. I am the only one that found a loophole in the clause by creating a way to get a master. Harry isn't controlled by Lucifer and prophecies, and therefore, neither am I any longer."

"Nicely done! I always respect someone that manages to find the loopholes and use them to their own means," Crowley said with a smirk. Derek chuckled, then looked over towards the magical entrance.

"Master Loki is here."

"Have no fear, Bitches! Loki is here!" Loki said with a wide grin, nudging Crowley over and taking the seat next to him.

"We weren't afraid you wouldn't show up, and don't call us bitches if you want to continue keep all of your fingers in tact," Crowley deadpanned, taking his drink when the waitress finally arrived with it. She took their orders for food, given Loki was now there and then once more left them alone. No one respected the need for privacy and dark, shady corners quite as much as wizards.

"So what was it you wanted to talk to us about?" Loki asked, fidgeting incessantly until he got comfortable. Crowley turned to glare at him and then looked back to Harry and Derek for their answer. He was quite curious about that as well.

"Right, yes. It's mostly concerning Loki, to be fair, but we figured Crowley might as well be here to join in the amusement," Harry admitted with a shrug, running his finger around the rim of his glass.

"I'm not complaining," Crowley admitted with a smirk, glancing to the side to see Loki shift in discomfort.

"So what is it you want me to do?"

"Become Cordelia!"

"Told you it had to do with that," Loki muttered to Crowley out the corner of his mouth. Crowley chuckled and shook his head. He really did want to know what the whole Cordelia thing was about.

"So the plan is that we make it like Loki is a part of Derek!" Harry told them brightly.

"You've lost me," Crowley stated. He looked from Harry to Derek, but gave up on either one giving anything away by their facial expression and instead turned to look at Loki. Who just looked confused by everything. Crowley was happy to know he wasn't alone in his confusion.

"Me too," Loki agreed with Crowley, and Harry looked at them and pouted.

"Really? Fine! He's going to be the new Death of Cats. So, Lokes, you're going to be in kitty-cat form every so often. Plus, this way, someone will be with me at all times, even when Derek can't be! So, should Derek not be around, Loki can be with me! Therefore, it shall be easier to pass on messages and such once the shit truly hits the fan!"

"Okay, I'm seeing your point, but I'm also wondering if your brand of insanity if moving away from somewhat adorable on to batshit insane, run for the hills he's got a gun," Loki admitted. Crowley snorted at the apt description of their friends sanity. Or lack thereof.

"So basically, you're turning Loki into a cat so that he can become your messenger boy when Derek's otherwise preoccupied?" Crowley summed up, ignoring the indignant noise from Loki.

"Yeah, pretty much!"

"And Death of Cats?"

"Yep! Well… I don't like rats…" Harry explained and Crowley groaned. He should have known it would have had something to do with Pratchett. _Good Omens_ was going to haunt him, he just knew it.

* * *

Harry glanced to the side where Derek was silently watching him work. Their plans for the fast approaching Apocalypse were slowly coming to form. Now he just needed to make something that would prove him to whatever the big bad's name was. Luci-something.

"You sure this is going to work?"

"You need my scythe, but you need to be connected to it. Therefore, you should recast your own from the remains of mine. It will work, Master," Derek reassured him. Harry looked at him before rolling his shoulders and giving a nod.

"Okay, let's get started then. Am I the only one with Duran Duran's _Wild Boys_ in their head?"


	9. 2010

2010

_January_

Crowley relaxed in his seat, watching the film playing out on the screen in front of him. To an outside observer, he looked completely at ease and totally enthralled by what he was watching. On the inside, and to those that knew him however, it was an entirely different thing. He was silently going insane as he waited for the inevitable visit he knew Laurel and Hardy would pay him, and could only be thankful that Gabriel had painstakingly set up all the anti-angel wards around his building to keep the pesky pet angel out of his house. It was bad enough that he had to spend an indefinite amount of time in America (he could already feel himself getting more and more insane. The day before he'd accepted one of Gabriel's sherbet straws), but now he had to have two hunters in his home. He didn't like Harry enough to allow their little angel to enter as well. Angel's made him itch.

Gabriel being the only one that didn't. But then, Crowley had noticed that Gabriel was the in the minority for most things angel-wise. Or in general.

He was brought out of his musings over whether or not Gabriel actually wasn't considered in the minority for anything when his electricity was cut. Show time it would seem.

Harry owed him at least five autographs for this.

Standing, he calmly walked out of the room and made him way to where he knew the brothers would be entering. Really, the amount of diversion wards and tricks that he, Harry and Gabriel had laid down, the two brothers didn't stand a chance in making their own way around the place.

"It's Crowley, right?" The taller brother asked, when they noticed Crowley standing before him, Crowley just tilted his head as affirmative and smirked.

"So," Crowley called out, noting how tall they both were and mentally cackled at what Harry would have to say about that, "the Hardy Boys finally found me. Took you long enough."

Crowley started to walk towards the two, but noticed his rug looking rumpled and out of place between them. OCD was something one picked up along with a healthy dose of paranoia when one had more enemies than they had had hot dinners. Or hung around with Harry and Gabriel for long periods of time. He did both. His paranoia and OCD, he would admit, were no longer at 'healthy' levels. Nudging at the carpet with his foot, he crouched and little and looked under it, scowling when he saw a Devil's Trap drawn on the bottom.

"Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?" Crowley snapped, and he noticed that the taller of the two had the decency to look apologetic. Well, up until the two demons hiding in the shadows behind them saw his signal and moved to grab the two. Crowley waited for them to stop struggling and then give him their attention once more before holding up the Colt. "This is it, right? This is what it's all about."

Crowley glanced at the gun in his hands and then aimed it at the shorter brother, the one that showed no remorse over completely destroying his rug and eradicating it's market value down to a couple of pence. He grinned when they both froze, then shifted his aim an inch or so and shot the two demons holding them.

"We need to talk. Privately." Crowley added with a glance to the dead bodies for an explanation. No need making them think he was another bloody bleeding heart. He was best friends with the emotionless Master of Death and the heathen Archangel Gabriel. Really, his heart bled for no one. Heroes deserved to be drowned at birth in his opinion. Annoying bastards.

Crowley led the two – and really he tried to recall their names but couldn't find it in him to care enough to try too hard. He was certain their names had been mentioned by someone before. He thought that maybe one was called Dave or D-something – to his office and moved to lean on his desk and looked at them.

"What the hell is this?" The shorter brother demanded as he stood next to his brother, glaring at Crowley. Dom? No, that wasn't it either.

"Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?" Crowley asked them, ignoring the question from – Declan? Still not quite right – and looking at the gun with a sneer. Truthfully, he'd actually just given it to Gabriel to play with until Derek (Wasn't that name either) had pointed out they could possibly use it as leverage somehow. Crowley glanced up and waved his hand, making the doors behind the two hunters slam shut. "There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you."

"You told us." The taller brother, whose name Crowley wasn't even going to try and guess, deadpanned, looking at him in disbelief. Why no one had anything faith in him, Crowley had no idea.

"Rumours, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine," Crowley told them with a smirk, wondering if Harry had left that bottle of Shiraz he had promised him.

"Why? Why tell us anything?" The taller asked him, and Crowley began to wonder if the short one – Duncan maybe? Nope – was just going to stand there looking pretty. Maybe too pretty, Crowley thought and aimed the Colt at him.

"I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face," Crowley finally told them after he'd had enough fun making them fidget.

"Uh huh, okay, and why exactly would you want the devil dead?" Dan? No, but that was closer than the other two – asked him. Crowley just gave a suffering sigh and stared at him like he thought he was stupid. Because he was honestly beginning to think he was stupid.

"It's called survival," Crowley said, putting the gun down and eyeing the two shrewdly. They _were_ the Winchester's after all, "Well, I forgot you two, at best, are functioning morons –"

"You're functioning… morons…" Dane? No, but really, the name was on the tip of his tongue now – said, trailing off as he clearly noted just how much of an insult that wasn't. Really. Crowley just stared at him, feeling a little more justified in doing so when he noticed his brother doing the same.

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?" Crowley asked with a mental scowl at Lucifer, overall pain in his neck. Hopefully the two brothers would take his damned offer up and they would finally be able to find out if the Colt worked on archangels. Without them trying on Gabriel. Who wasn't completely an archangel anyway, so who knew how that would turn out?

"But he created you," the taller brother said and Crowley gaped at him, honestly wondering if the younger Winchester thought he and Lucifer should go into some sort of family counselling.

"To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when he could all follow out natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say it I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil?" Crowley asked them, holding out the Colt, handle first for one of them to take it.

The brothers glanced at one another, and Crowley wiggled the gun a little, teasingly and silently wishing they would hurry up and take it. The taller brother looked at him suspiciously, and then hesitantly reached out and took the gun.

"Great," he muttered, taking a hasty step back to stand next to his brother – Dean? That's it! Crowley actually had to catch himself to stop himself shouting it out in relief. Damn name had been driving him insane.

"Great," Crowley echoed, though he wasn't too sure if he was saying great to the same thing. Really, if he could recall the other brother's name, he'd be golden.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the devil is, by chance, would you?" Dean's brother asked him and Crowley just shrugged and glanced to the side carelessly.

"Thursday, birdies tell me, there's an appointment in Carthage, Missouri." Crowley wasn't too sure Gabriel would appreciate being called a 'birdie' but if the hat fit…

He watched the brothers glance at one another before Gigantor, which should be his name if wasn't actually it, gave a nod and looked back to Crowley, "Great."

The hunter then held the Colt up and placed the barrel between Crowley's eyes, pulling the trigger. Crowley just smirked at the click, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Just how stupid did they think he was?

"Oh, yeah, right, you'll probably need some more ammunition," Crowley admitted with not an ounce of remorse. He was the King of the Crossroads, did they think he go to that point by letting anyone walk all over him.

Admittedly, he did have a little help in getting there as well. Still had no buggering clue what to do with all the souls he had, though. Grinning to himself, he walked behind his desk and grabbed a bag he had put in the drawer.

"Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing you own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?" Dean asked him and Crowley couldn't help but wonder why it would matter to either hunter what would happen to him if this went tits up. Which, knowing the two in front of him, it would.

"Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere," or Gabriel's temporary house, he thought, "and there, how about you don't miss, okay! Morons!" Crowley finished with a yell, scowling at them and throwing the bag containing the bullets at Dean and then quickly vanishing from the manor whilst the brothers' attention was on the bag and not him.

* * *

Lucifer felt the rising power that signified that he was very close to achieving his goal and shot a glance over his shoulder to where he had thrown Dean Winchester, only to scowl when he saw that they had gone. Meaning that his brother, Castiel, had also escaped.

Turing his attention back to where Death would rise, he smirked, eyes coolly glancing over the dead bodies of the demons, smirk widening when a bolt of lightning hit the ground inches in front of him, leaving behind a strong smell of ozone and a short, frail-looking figure.

Once the dust and soil that had been thrown up from the force of the lightning hitting the ground, had settled, Lucifer felt confusion run though him, though didn't show any on his face, as he saw the figure properly.

The man had pale, almost waxen, skin and had dark black hair hanging limply around his face in tangled loose curls. He was short, standing at about five foot eight, tops, and was wearing a long black robe that practically dwarfed his frail body and billowed on the floor around his feet, making Lucifer wonder if the robe actually belonged to the man, who was most certainly _not_ Death. Lucifer also took note that showing from out of the too long sleeves was a strange wooden stick in the figure's right hand, and a curved blade, similar to Death's scythe but couldn't be the actual blade of Death, held in the figures left hand.

Lucifer shifted and allowed a frown to show on his face as a sign of his displeasure, his moving had caught the attention of the man in front of him, who had been staring at the ground since his arrival. Lucifer felt his body involuntarily freeze for a few nanoseconds when piercing forest green eyes locked on to his own and a black eyebrow rose in a silent question.

"What do you need from the Master of Death?"

* * *

"What do you need from the Master of Death?" Harry asked the man, using his official voice, which actually made him sound like he had lost his voice. He also had to urge to eat a strepsil when he used it.

Harry took a slow step forward, smiling at the feel of dewy grass under his feet and then looking up at the man in front of him once there was barely an inch between them.

"Where is the Horseman?"

"You wish for Death? I am his Master, he listens to me." Harry told him a little more forcefully, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him and wondering just who he was.

"I have called all the Horsemen forth."

"You're starting an Apocalypse? And you wish for my servant's help in this?" Harry asked the man, who seemed to be getting frustrated that Harry wasn't obeying his every wish.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No." Harry admitted with a slight tilt of his head, and he held back a grin when the man took a step back in shock and looked at Harry in confusion.

"I'm Lucifer." The man, Lucifer, told him, in a voice that indicated that Harry _should_ know who he was.

"Hello, Lucifer. I'm Harry, the Master over Death, and until you show me why you wish to destroy this planet, my servant will not help you." Harry informed him politely, blinking blankly when Lucifer actually gaped at him.

"You haven't heard of me? At all?"

"No."

"Have you heard of Satan?"

"The evil guy in Christian beliefs? I've heard of him."

"That's me."

"Oh, well, that's nice for you. I'm still not helping you until you tell me why you are doing this."

"I want this world and the pathetic creatures that inhabit it to burn."

"Oh well, in that case. Have at them." Harry said sarcastically, sneering at the man in front of him.

"You would do well not to anger me further." Lucifer told him, glowering at Harry, who just crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to flash the two weapons to remind Lucifer he wasn't completely harmless.

"You are not the first holy figure I have met, nor will you be the last. You think your religion is the only one on this planet? You think the only opposition you will have is from who ever the hell the good guys of Christianity are? There are hundreds of Gods, Goddesses and religious beings out there that will oppose your plans."

"So you are saying you refuse to help me? You have made up your mind?" Lucifer asked him and Harry cocked his head to the side and looked at him closely.

"No. I said I would listen to why you are doing this. I think there is another reason other than the one you gave me. So I will stick around. Watch what you do. Try to find out what it is you wish for my servant to do. And to make sure you don't hurt kittens."

"Ki – So you are willing to give me a chance?" Lucifer asked, having clearly decided not to bother asking about the kitten remark.

"I am. So can I call you Luci?"

"No."

"Huh. Lucifer it is then. Where are we by the way?"

* * *

"How did someone so young, find themselves to be Master of Death?" Lucifer enquired and Harry just shrugged and looked away from him.

"Different ways. You think I'm going to tell you? You want to burn this world and everything in it, to the ground. My being Master of Death is the only thing that ensures I will survive whatever happens. So no, I won't be telling you." Harry told him vaguely, not looking at Lucifer and thus not seeing the anger flash in his eyes before he hid it.

"I suppose that is understandable then. You should know, I _will_ find out how. And when I do, I won't allow you to hinder me anymore." Lucifer warned him and Harry scoffed at him and turned to look away from him, to where a pale green, almost cream, Cadillac was driving towards them.

"Ah, here he is. Right on time, too. Death's never late, after all. Would be bad business." Harry commented, pushing off of the wall and walking past Lucifer to greet his servant.

"Master, what are you doing here? I left you in Belarus last month. I had assumed you would still be there. When I sensed you in America, I was quite surprised." Death said in a low voice as he stepped out of the car and bowed his head at Harry, then held open a pizza box. "The pizza in this country is better than anywhere else."

"Even Italy?" Harry asked him, taking a slice of the cheese and tomato pizza and taking a bite, humming in pleasure. "Oh no, you're right, this is nice."

"Exactly. Master… why is Lucifer standing behind you?" Death asked, looking past Harry to where Lucifer was standing and watching them.

"Oh, he wants to take over the world, burn everyone to the ground and dance in the ashes. But he needs your help in that. No idea why. I've told him that I won't let you go out to play until I'm sure the big kids won't bully you." Harry told his servant, serious tone belying the light-hearted wording.

"And you feel no compulsion to follow his orders?" Death asked Harry in a quiet voice, which Lucifer couldn't hear.

"No. And Death can only have one master. That's me. Derek, you may need your ring. Take it. Keep it safe, you know what to do with it. Make sure it doesn't get into the wrong hands. Understand me?" Harry asked Death, taking a gold ring with a black stone in it, off of his finger and handing it to a shocked Death.

"Of course, Master." Death said, dipping his head and then placing the ring on his own finger, next to the finger holding another ring.

"Good, so, you know Luci_fer_? Good to know, introductions aren't needed. They always have bored me a little. Did you stop that kitten farm in Essex? And did you teach their souls a lesson they aren't likely to forget in a hurry?" Harry asked at a normal volume, ignoring the feeling of Lucifer's eyes boring into his back.

"Their reincarnations will never be cruel to a cat ever again. The kittens have been distributed to loving families, as asked and I also stopped a woman from running over a family of frogs. You should be warned, your past life is searching for you. They have noticed the strange goings on in this world and are concerned that it may soon affect them." Death told Harry, who wrinkled his nose and squinted one eye before shrugging.

"Had better make sure that they don't find me then, hadn't we. Why do they not believe I am dead?" Harry asked, looking confused, and glancing over his shoulder when Lucifer moved to walk up to them.

"I am not sure. Perhaps you can point Lucifer towards his first victims," Death suggested and Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"That wouldn't be very nice, would it? They haven't done anything to me. It's not like they actively searched me out in the time I've been gone. No, we should leave them alone. Soon they will have enough problems of their own, to realistically be able to search for a dead man." Harry told Death, whilst Lucifer just watched the two in silence.

"As you wish, Master. If you have summoned my Master, and by association, myself. Does that mean my brothers are now out as well?" Death asked, looking at Lucifer, whilst Harry kept silent, watching the two.

"It does. I regret to inform you that War has lost his ring and powers, however he did begin the apocalypse, the path has been set." Lucifer told him and Death sighed and looked at Harry, who glanced back at him and nodded.

"I shall take you to where you wish to go and then I will leave and search out my brothers. War will not have long left and only my Master or myself can take care of his soul," Death told them and Harry sighed and looked up at the sky, wondering why they had agreed to this.

* * *

Crowley hadn't expected Derek to visit him so soon into the game, especially as, by his reckoning, Harry had only been summoned a few hours ago, at the most.

"Derek?"

"It is done," Derek told him, moving to wit down heavily at the desk Crowley was sitting at. Crowley looked at the man in concern, grabbing a bottle of whisky from the drawer in his desk and pouring a dram for Derek, nudging it over to him.

"That bad?"

"Lucifer is going to kill my master if he does not learn how to keep his smart aleck quips to himself," Derek admittedly with a derisive snort and a shake of his head. Crowley found himself knowing exactly what Derek was talking about.

"Being a gobby little shit, then? Good to know Lucifer will be kept on his toes. Has Luci learnt not to fuck with Harry yet? Or has Harry not shown his somewhat dangerous side yet?"

"I believe he's shown a little bit of that side of him. But not the full extent," Derek told him, downing the whiskey in front of him and then sighing, leaning back in his chair.

"So? There a reason you're here or did you just need to get away from all the insanity? Is Harry actually alright? I can't help but think that this is a monumentally moronic idea. Not to mention that I had to deal with the Winchester's," Crowley said with a shudder, he knew just how badly their idea with the gun had gone, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.

"There was a reason for my being here, actually. I have something for you. There is a new plan."

"Harry is still going to sleep with him?" Crowley asked, not bothering to ask what it was Derek had to give him. He had an idea and he wasn't too keen on holding on to the item.

"He must do what he has to in order to find out what is going on."

"So he truly doesn't know if he's going to be choosing Lucifer's side? What, what about us? Me? Loki? _You_?" Crowley exclaimed, and Derek shot him a narrow-eyed glance.

"You should know that he will not do anything that might put any of us in danger. You should have a little more faith in your lovers," Derek told him, and for the first time since before he had died, he was made to feel like a child.

"Or course. I shouldn't have thought that of Harry. So, what is it you have to give me?" Crowley asked with a sigh, truly hoping that what was in Derek's hand wasn't a ring.

* * *

_March_

Crowley look up when he felt Harry step out of the shadows just in front of Derek, and glanced around the opulent room he had stepped out in. He felt a little smug and very proud of his current manor (though he refused to admit that Loki helped him in anyway) when Harry whistled lowly. Harry then chuckled when Crowley jerked a little as he realised what this visit meant.

"Well, well, I had wondered if I'd be seeing you two again. A master and his bitch. Come to finally smack my hand?" Crowley asked, standing up from his desk and walking over to them, acting like it had been longer than three months since he'd seen Harry. Though, admittedly, both he and Loki had felt a small bit of concern over their little reaper at their bi-monthly get-togethers. Harry just smirked at him, however, and raised an eyebrow as though he knew exactly what Crowley was thinking.

"Now, now, Crowley. That's no way to treat one of the few people who can end your existence, is it?" Harry asked, and Crowley bristled slightly at the amused look that Harry shot him. Really, he thought Harry had gotten over holding that little factor over his head. Clearly he had been right in his unease over this plan. Lucifer was bad for Harry.

"Sorry. I've been a little… jumpy, since this whole Apocalypse thing started. You know how it is," Crowley stated, turning swiftly on his heel and motioning for Harry to follow behind him. "Notice you're still wearin' that cloak. Still don't want the number to my tailor?"

"And end up looking like you? We'd be giving people the wrong impression about the British if I did that," Harry told him, following Crowley through the halls of his large house and into the main sitting room. Harry then took a seat in the chair Crowley motioned for him to take, noticing that Derek moved to stand behind Harry's seat, dipping his head in a silent greeting to Crowley, before making a strange motion. Crowley frowned a little but turned back to Harry, ignoring Derek for the moment.

"You don't want people thinking the British are style savvy and well-dressed?" Crowley asked, pouring them both a brandy and handing one glass over to Harry, before he moved to sit in the seat opposite the one that he'd pointed for Harry to sit in.

"You mean stuffy and uptight? No."

"So you would rather them think we are scruffy and short, with no idea what shoes are?" Crowley asked sending a pointed glance at Harry's bare feet.

"No, I prefer unique. And shoes are restricting. I can't feel the souls of the earth when I'm wearing them. You know that, Crowley. By the way, should I be calling you King, since Lilith has kicked the bucket now and all?"

"Did you ever call her 'Queen'?"

"Never met her."

"Ah. In which case, yes, yes you should refer to me as either King Crowley or Your Majesty, whichever you feel more comfortable with. You should bow to me as well. And shower me with – actually, I've seen your idea of gifts, just bowing is fine," Crowley told him, with an air of distaste, making Harry smirk at him.

"I'm Death, we don't do bowing," Harry informed him and then his eyes lit up in mischief, which caused Crowley to eye him warily. "What does –"

"If you value your manly parts, I wouldn't finish that sentence. So what are you really here for? We both know that Brits don't _actually_ partake in tea and crumpets, and I don't know about you, but I've never had a cucumber sandwich in my life." Crowley told him, sipping his brandy but never taking his eyes off of Harry, he hated to admit it, but Harry was truly making his wary at the moment. He needed to talk to Loki about all of this. Catching Derek's eye, he noticed that Death was watching him closely.

"Business call. You knew we would be coming. We need to know what _you_ know about this whole Apocalypse thing. How do you think it is going to end? And more importantly, in whose favour? Who do _you_ think we should be backing?" Harry asked and Crowley exhaled heavily, before he locked eyes with Harry. Really, he didn't want to admit what his current thoughts about the Apocalypse were.

"Your pet, there, is a Horseman, Harry. For this whole thing to really get started, he's got to join in the welcome parade. You still not read the Bible? I told you it was a good read. Full of angst, death, twists and turns. It'll make you laugh, it'll make you cry. More to the point though, it'll give a clue as to what Old Nick is planning," Crowley told him. He decided that sticking to being vague was a better idea, and given that Harry just accepted that with a small nod, he went with Crowley's suggestion. Hearing Harry's opinions on the Bible were going to be amusing.

"Okay. I'll give it a read. Before you tell us everything, and I do mean everything, you well dressed Del Boy of Hell, I have something I need to inform you," Harry told him, clearly ignoring insulted look Crowley sent him at his nickname.

"Go on. And does that make you Rodney?"

"Call me Rodney and I'll castrate your favourite Hellhound. Here's the deal, Crowley, I know how much you like them," Harry said, standing up from his seat and walking to stand in front of Crowley, who just watched him with amusement in his eyes. He knew for a damned fact that Harry wouldn't harm his Hellhound. He liked the strange mutt far too much. Probably because said mutt tried to pass itself off as a cat whenever Harry was around.

"Well, I _am_ a Crossroads Demon, Love."

"Indeed, and here's the deal. You stay out of this war. Don't help either side. Stop contact with the Winchester's and yes, I do know about that, you're not the only one with ears everywhere."

"And if I do that? What's in it for me? If old Luci wins, you know I'll be the first to be gone," Crowley pointed out, for the first time that evening actually showing his discomfort that that was actually going to be his outcome in all of this. Harry sent him a soothing look before he blanked his expression once more.

"What I've given you already, isn't enough? Fine, I'll ensure, that no matter who wins this war, _you_ will survive it. And I control Death, _no_ _one_ dies if I don't want them to," Harry told him and Crowley narrowed his eyes before he nodded, taking the hint – or at least hoping – that Loki was included in that deal. The god grew on you after a while. Even if he _was_, technically speaking, still a card carrying member of the God Squad.

"Alright, I'll take a strategic retreat then. I won't help either side and _you_ will ensure that _I_ survive this," Crowley told him, and Harry smirked at him then leant down press a kiss to Crowley's mouth, tongue flicking out to brush over Crowley's lips and making Crowley hold back a groan. Really, the damn tease.

"You have a deal," Harry told him once he pulled back, licking his lips with a smirk, whilst Crowley just looked back at him in slightly aroused amusement. He watched Harry then walk back to his seat and sit down, looking at Crowley closely. "Now, tell us _everything_ you have learnt of this war. Don't leave anything out, Crowley, I'll know if you do."

* * *

Crowley knew his plan was to stay away from the Winchester's however, he also knew that the Winchester's would not stay away from him, and would, in fact, actively start to look for him. So he needed another plan. One that would keep the Winchester's out of the way and allow the plans to go ahead with barely any trouble. Not that he was at all stupid enough to think that they wouldn't come across _some_ troubles. However keeping the Winchester's out of it would at least get rid of those problems…

* * *

_April_

Harry nibbled on his bottom lip as he read through the note Death had given to him two weeks before, and then frowned before he lit the note in his palm on fire and dropped the ashes to the floor.

"Well fuck." Harry muttered, scowling at the remains of the note. He jerked his head up and glanced over at the door when Lucifer slammed it open and stormed into the room, chuntering under his breath.

"Why are my own creations so completely useless? I can't trust them to do anything without screwing it up!" Lucifer growled, and Harry snorted and shook his head.

"All evil overlords have shit taste in minions. The fact that you made yours just makes it seem more pitiful. Think of your own creator. Shit, His creations make yours look completely competent. And He's supposed to be all knowing and crap." Harry told him, snickering when Lucifer looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"God is not an evil overlord."

* * *

_May_

Harry walked into the room that Loki was setting a new prank up in, making the god/archangel look up at him and smile widely.

"Harry! What can I do for you?" Loki asked him, finishing whatever it was that he needed to set to severely maim his victim du jour. He turned to Harry and clicked his fingers, taking them to the apartment he was currently squatting in. "So?"

"There has been a minor change to the plan. You're to no longer follow me around. In fact, you're going to start helping Crowley with keeping the Winchesters out of everything. Things are starting to move up and Luci-Lou is starting to get impatient for his inevitable fight with Mickey Mouse," Harry informed him. Loki nodded his head slowly and then looked at him in question.

"So what am I to do then? Go to Crowley?"

"Not exactly. You'll meet up with him."

"Oh? So? Going to share some more information with me, Harry?" Loki asked him with a smirk on his face.

"Right. So Death of Cats is going to hitch a ride with the Winchesters. There's going to be a meeting in that hotel. All pagan gods and what-not."

"Yeah, I know, we decided that me going to that wouldn't be wise. Have we changed that part of the plan now?" Loki asked him, frowning in confusion. Clearly he wasn't too sure why he had to go there.

"Well, now you're going to crash the party, piss of a couple of pagans and then let me come in, dave the day and then slaughter a couple of pagans. All whilst you quietly sneak away into the Impala without the Winchesters finding out. When you sense Crowley setting up another distraction, go find him and tell him the new plan for you to also help him out."

"Okay, got ya! Aye, Capitan!" Loki said, saluting Harry and making him grin at him.

"Good kitty."

* * *

"Yeah… come on." Sam muttered, and they both quickly made their way out of the hotel, and to where the Impala had been parked. They both noticed that the doors were already open, giving an indication that Harry hadn't been lying about the others humans in the hotel.

As they drove off, neither one noticed a small white kitten fast asleep behind the passenger seat of their car, waiting for it's master to call it back to him.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the shadow of the hotel, watching the fading taillights of the Impala and then turning his head to the side to look at the approaching figure.

"It is done then?" Death asked, stepping up to stand next to Harry, also looking out to where the Impala had left.

"It is. You can now go out and inform everyone of where our allegiances lie. Tell them that there isn't long now. Things will come to a head soon enough." Harry told him and he felt Death nod beside him.

"Are you sure we have made the right decision?"

"We've made the only decision. We both need to leave before we are missed. Come to me when you have all their answers." Harry told him, tilting his head to the side to look at his servant.

"As you wish, Master." Death dipped his head in acquiescence and then left his side, leaving Harry alone to contemplate the decisions he had made that night. He sighed deeply and then disappeared from the hotel to go back to Kansas.

* * *

Crowley appeared outside of the motel the Winchesters were currently holed up in and tried to decide what trap to set this time to lead them a little further away from Harry, Derek and Lucifer. He was, understandably, quite surprised when a family bone white kitten came running towards him.

"Loki? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Harry," Crowley hissed, stepping back when Loki changed back to his human form.

"Harry sent me to help you. He said that things are starting to progress a little quicker now and that Luci is starting to get impatient for his fight with Michael so everything can be finished.'

"Does he still believe Harry is completely on his side, do you know?"

"I'm going to assume so. Still, neither Winchester has noticed I'm here yet, but Derek came to me just as we got here. I'm to show myself to them at the last minute and take them to the place where it's going to all end. He'll come get us, so you're to come to, but not show yourself to anyone."

"Any idea why?"

"I'd imagine so that Harry has enough back up should things go completely tits up. Derek isn't entirely happy about everything that's going on. I think he's beginning to get a little anxious with how Luci is treating his master."

"What, like his bitch?" Crowley sneered, and Loki's expression showed that he felt exactly the same as Crowley did on the whole subject of Lucifer and Harry.

"Hopefully he won't have to do it for much longer." Loki muttered, and Crowley could only hope he was right.

* * *

_June_

"Intense," Harry muttered, glancing around for his cloak and then snatching it when Lucifer handed it to him. Harry narrowed his eyes at the man suspiciously, then shrugged the cloak on, ignoring the returning constant dull throb now coming from his hand.

"We should make a start on plans, now that I know I have you on my side." Lucifer said, ignoring the glare Harry was sending his way and walking over to the door to open it. He paused before opening it and looked Harry up and down with a distasteful sneer. "At least you are now looking cleaned up and semi-presentable."

"Fucker, no thanks to you. You do know I'll get that ring back, right?" Harry said, then snapped his mouth shut when three demons walked into the room, glancing between the two snippy men warily.

"You can certainly try. But you will definitely fail." Lucifer informed him, ignoring the insulting gesture Harry sent at him and, instead, turning to the three that entered the room.

Harry watched with narrowed eyes as Lucifer laid out the plans, and then sighed and let his eyes drift shut. Things were going almost to plan. Though he could have done without losing his finger.

He stayed silent, trying to will his finger to start healing itself, until Lucifer finally left the room with the three demons, clearly going to make sure everything was sorted for his plans. Harry waited for another ten minutes, before he let himself fade into the shadows and left the room.

* * *

When Harry breezed into his room, Crowley felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew that Harry coming to him was the sign that things had finally come to an end. Of course his anxiety for what was to come was soon replaced by concern and anger when he saw that Harry was bleeding quite profusely.

"Harry? What's happened?" Crowley asked, moving forward to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry just shrugged him off, practically visibly vibrating with fury.

"Nothing much, just Lucifer taking something he thought will help him in this. Do you still have what Derek gave you?"

"Of course I do. Even if it generally make me uncomfortable and feel like I'm a walking, talking target, doesn't mean I'm gonna get rid of it in anyway. So what's gonna happen? Besides you bleeding out."

"I'm not going to bleed out. It's already starting to grow back. As for why I'm here, I need to go to Loki and tell him it's time. Then head back to me, you know how to find me," Harry told him, sounding rushed. Crowley just nodded and reached over to grab his jacket from the back of his seat.

"Tell Loki, then find you. Got it. Want me to make myself known?" Crowley asked, feeling a spark of shock when Harry shook his head.

"No, just stay out of sight, hidden. I need you to just stay behind after it's all gone on. Make sure we did the job right. Derek and Loki seem to think it will work, but I need to be sure. You have the fastest ways of telling us it hasn't worked should they somehow get out."

"Fair enough. Stay behind and ensure that Lucifer stays locked up. I can do that too. What about afterwards?"

"I'll find you? Not too sure. I'll have some things to deal with. Plus those pesky wizards are going through their denial stage about my state of living once again, so me and Derek will have to deal with that as well. Just know I'll come to you for it once I've dealt with everything and I know it's safe for me to have them all together again."

"Okay then. I guess we'd better get started then. Stay safe, Harry and I'll see you at the other side."

"Fun times, Crowley, fun times! Think I have time for a cheeky nap?"

* * *

Harry followed Lucifer onto the field where he claimed he would meet with Michael, and finish the war once and for all, in contemplative silence. His glanced down at his hand and frowned at the slow rate his finger was growing back, he could've sworn that his arm grew back a lot quicker when he got it ripped off by a passing train. And wasn't _that_ an embarrassing memory he'd rather forget? He sighed once more and turned his attention back to Lucifer, scrunching up his nose and watching with disinterest as Lucifer paced in the grass.

"And you're certain that Michael will know when to show up? You sent him an email, or something, about it? Huh, angel emailing. That would be strange. 'Don't forget to smite the heathens in Croydon. Raphael. Xx' Yeah, that'd be weird," Harry muttered kicking at the only stone in the entire field. Lucifer briefly wondered where the hell, and _how_, Harry found the damned thing. Though he had quickly come to learn that the laws of logic didn't apply to Harry (or small children) when they got it into their head to irritate the ever loving hell out of whoever they were with.

"We do not use… emails. I do not even know what they are," Lucifer muttered, standing completely still and just staring out into the distance.

"Huh. That _shouldn't_ surprise me… but it does. I'm also sort of concerned for the angel stuck with smiting the heathens in Croydon. They're gonna be there for a while…" Harry muttered, digging up the dirt with his toe and ignoring the somewhat perplexed look Lucifer was sending him.

"You made that hypothetical situation up. There _is no_ angel in Croydon." Lucifer hissed at him and Harry glanced up at him through his lashes and smirked.

"You sound tense. Why? And you still haven't answered my question in the first place… How do you know Michael will be here?" Harry asked him, completely ignoring the glare Lucifer was sending his way.

"I just know. This is where it is supposed to happen," Lucifer informed him and Harry looked at him, nibbled on his bottom lip and tilted his head.

"A random field in the middle of Kansas? Right," Harry muttered slowly, rolling his eyes and then rolling his shoulders to try and work a kink out of them.

"This is where it will happen. Stop asking pointless questions," Lucifer growled and Harry smirked before he frowned once more and looked around them before turning back to Lucifer.

"Whose meat suit will he be using? Can't be Dean's, he hasn't said yes," Harry pointed out, making Lucifer look at him suspiciously.

"How would you know if Dean Winchester has said yes or not?"

"Simple, _you_ don't look scarily like Sam Winchester, too short, not enough... hair going on. So, on that theory, why else would Dean say yes? So, how is Michael gonna show up with no meat suit? I don't fancy having my eyeballs burnt out of my skull," Harry added, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "It'd take fucking ages for them to grow back if the length of time my finger is taking is any indication."

"Your eyes would not be burnt out of your skull. You should be able to see an angels true form with no repercussions," Lucifer informed him and Harry made a noise of interest.

"Huh. Good to know. I had wondered if that would be a perk of the job. So, Mikey-boy's gonna show up in the angelic buff? All bright lights, glitter and other camp stuff that makes me question the validity of some of the things mentioned in the Bible. Because, let's face it, angels? Kinda gay. Like... fairies. And for a brief period in history, sailors. I blame the Village People for that last one," Harry added in a mutter, and Lucifer sighed and dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Angelic buff? ... I don't think I want to know," Lucifer muttered and then frowned. "In answer to your other question, I believe he has a meat suit now. The youngest Winchester."

"Adam? He's dead. I should know; I took his soul myself," Harry said with a frown of confusion.

"They brought him back to life for the sole purpose of giving Michael a vessel," Lucifer told him and Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, _that's_ fair. I hate you higher, celestial beings. You think you're above Death and the natural order of things. Well, hate to break it to you, but you're not. Wankers," Harry muttered, ignoring the growl from Lucifer.

"I _am_ above you! I own you now," Lucifer hissed at him, patting his pocket in reminder and getting a sneer from Harry.

"So you like to believe. Shall we get this show on the road? DEREK!" Harry bellowed, smirking when he saw Lucifer cringe at the volume, then breaking out into a grin when Death appeared to the side of him.

"Master," Death said with a nod, and Harry smiled at him, ignoring the sharp look death sent to his injured hand. "What-?"

"Is everything sorted out?" Harry asked before Death could finish his question, and Death narrowed his eyes at Harry before he sighed and nodded his head.

"The final part of the plan was a success, everything is complete and ready. Now we just have to let everything take its course," Death informed Harry, and Harry smirked. Both anthropomorphic personifications ignored Lucifer's stare burning into their sides, neither one giving the man any opportunity to question them.

"Brilliant! Then I supposed our work here is done? There is nothing more that we can actually do to aide this?" Harry asked, he glanced at Lucifer out the corner of his eye and noticed the angel was grinding his teeth.

"You are right. We are no longer needed in this," Death agreed and clearly that was Lucifer's breaking point, as he quickly strode over to them and grabbed Harry by the collar of his cloak, completely ignoring the narrow eyed, angry look Death sent him.

"What do you mean? You promised me that you were on my side in this! You stated that you were backing me! You are not allowed to back out of this until _I_ say so!" Lucifer hissed, shaking Harry slightly in his anger. Harry just gazed at him impassively and then let his head drop to the side to glance at Death.

"He thinks he has the ring," Harry then had the peculiar feeling of gravity abandoning him for a second, when Lucifer let go of him in shock at that statement. Gravity then grabbed him and yanked him harshly to the floor, making him exhale in shock.

"I _do_ have the ring! I cut it off your finger myself!" Lucifer hissed at him, and Harry smirked then glanced over at Death.

"No. _That_ ring is somewhere safe. Somewhere you would never even _think _of looking. The ring that you currently hold in your position is the Black Heir's ring. Not even the Lord's ring. That will get you access to one vault belonging to the Black's in Gringotts bank. And it's empty. Apparently when you don't actually have a job and some sort of steady income, money doesn't last forever, no matter how much you have," Harry commented breezily, absently waving his hand in a dismissive manner.

"No! I _own_ you!" Lucifer hissed, reaching out to grab Harry once more, but missing when Death pulled Harry against his chest protectively, sneering at Lucifer in thinly controlled anger.

"Look, I've said it before and I'm certain I'll have to say it again after today. Death has no allegiances. We can't pick a side to back. Both sides will suffer losses, and we have to be impartial and reap the souls that fall. We don't give a shit if they are good, bad, neutral, whatever. We just send them on their merry way to wherever the fuck they are destined to go," Harry explained with a shrug, smirking at Lucifer's furious expression.

"You betrayed me!" Lucifer screamed, and Harry sighed and glanced up at Death, raising an eyebrow and shrugging.

"We didn't betray you. If anything, you betrayed us by trying to force our hand. You tried to trick my master into doing your bidding by trying to steal something from him that can and will never be yours. All three Hallows accepted Harry as their master and owner. Never has that happened before and never will it happen again. They can't ever be separated by different masters ever again. And no one gets the right to control Death anymore," Death informed Lucifer, before Harry chuckled and stepped out of Death's hold, walking over to stand in front of Lucifer.

"Let's be honest, Lucifer. You never truly thought I would back you. That was why you felt you had to trick me. Why you planned to separate me from the Hallows and kill me. You _knew_ I wouldn't truly allow you to win this," Harry told him in a soft voice, gently resting his injured hand on Lucifer's cheek. "No one succeeds when they plan to rule the world. Not even Satan."

"You tricked me," Lucifer said, some of the fight leaving his voice, and Harry smiled at him and shrugged unapologetically.

"I had help," Harry said, and snapped his fingers, before taking a step away from Lucifer. He pulled his uninjured hand out of his cloak pocket, and opened it to show him the four Horsemen's rings in the palm of his hand. He then shrugged, letting a small smile cross his lips. "You _did_ say that you never truly felt you had gotten out of Hell. Maybe you were right."

Harry then smirked and glanced just past Lucifer's shoulder, making Lucifer stiffen and look behind him. He took a step back when he saw Castiel and Gabriel standing behind him, each with a hand on the shoulder of either Sam or Dean.

Gabriel then smirked at him and waved his fingers, before glancing past Lucifer to Harry. Harry smiled and tilted his head in acquiescence. Gabriel then gave a small laugh, dragging Lucifer's attention back to him, and meowed.

"You!" Lucifer spat, finally putting the clues together and realising he had probably been played from the very beginning.

"My very own Cordelia. I'm insane, but I'm not actually insane enough to believe I need a Death of Cats," Harry bluntly informed him with a mock sad shake of his head.

"You never had any intention of backing me! You tricked me from the start! How _dare_ you?" Lucifer spat, spinning on his heel to stride over to Harry, wrapping his hands around his neck before anyone could move to stop him. Castiel tightened his grip on Dean's shoulder when the hunter made a move to help Harry, whilst Gabriel snickered and shook his head at Sam. They all then looked to Death to see what his reaction was, and both hunters frowned to see him ignoring Harry and Lucifer completely, choosing to look to the side instead.

"I didn't," Harry choked out, scrabbling and scratching at Lucifer's hands and arms, "I gave you a chance. You can't hide from me! Can't hide your intentions! I knew _everything_! You _hated_ me from the get go!"

Lucifer gave a growl of rage and tightened his grip on Harry's neck even more, making Harry gasp and choke. His struggling started to get weaker as his sight started to fade and he felt his body slowly begin to give up and shut down due to the lack of oxygen. He was only immortal in the sense that he couldn't _stay_ dead after all.

"Luc—Be-behind you," Harry gasped out, and took in heaving, wheezing gasps of breath when he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

Harry glanced up through his limp, greasy hair and smirked when he saw Lucifer looking at the sword in his chest in shock, before he then looked up at Michael holding on the hilt of the sword, a look of betrayal and pain on his face. Michael grimaced at the look being sent his way, but pushed the sword in even deeper, brushing the fingers of his free hand over Lucifer's cheek in a weak gesture of apology.

"Derek…" Harry gasped out, throwing the rings to the floor and watching as the gate was opened. He then glanced back and saw that Death had appeared behind Michael and Lucifer. "Now."

Death smirked and tilted his head in a small bow to Harry, before he pushed both Archangel's into the hole. Harry stretched out his hand and let it brush against Michael's ankle, just as the shocked angels fell past him.

Death then moved quickly and grabbed hold of Harry to prevent him being sucked into Hell with the two angels, and they both watched as Gabriel shoved a shocked and frozen Sam into Castiel and Dean. The only Archangel that ever actually registered on Harry's radar then grabbed the rings and shut the gate, glancing down at the rings in his hand.

"It's over," Harry, Death and Gabriel all snapped their heads to the side to look at Sam when he spoke, a little breathlessly, the awe and relief clearly evident in his voice. "It's… they're…" Sam seemed unable to voice his feelings; just weakly waving in the direction that Lucifer and Michael had last been seen.

"What—what about Adam?" Dean finally asked, breaking the silence that had descended over them after Sam's stammered exclamation, all six of them just staring at where it had finally ended.

"He's moved on. Gone back to where he rightfully should be. Don't worry, he's not in the box," Harry told him, weakly letting Death and Gabriel pull him up from the floor and then straightening up. He refused to look weak and… _mortal_ in front of the two hunters and their angel.

"Is it really over? How was it that easy?" Castiel finally asked, looking both disturbed at the recent happenings and a little relieved.

"You think that was _easy_, little bro?" Gabriel asked incredulously, staring at Castiel in stunned disbelief.

"He's kinda right. We didn't do jack." Dean pointed out, whilst Sam sheepishly shrugged and nodded his agreement.

"You're right, _you_, Team Free Will, did nothing in this. Well, besides fuck up quite a few of our plans. Why did you ignore our message from Mrs Singer? Why the fuck did you go to Elysian Fields?" Harry asked them, feeling a flash of anger and allowing it to show in his tone, before it quickly diminished to nothing. Both the Winchesters' had to grace to look at the floor in shame, whilst Castiel just look confused.

"What message?" Castiel asked, looking from the two humans to the three beings that had just ended the Apocalypse in a seemingly easy manner. One of which being his estranged and uncaring brother. Clearly not as uncaring as he had led them to believe.

"I gave Bobby Singer's wife a message to pass on to Bobby and the Winchesters' when we raised the dead. We told her to tell them not to say yes, no matter what, and to not stray far from South Dakota. Clearly they decided to ignore the second half. _Actually_, you probably would have ignored the first bloody part too if I hadn't shown up when I did. I should have let you get eaten," Harry muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting slightly, "you nearly fucked up the plan."

"Sorry," Sam muttered, whilst Dean just shrugged and Castiel continued to look a little lost. "Still, you succeeded. You managed to do what we clearly couldn't."

"Yeah, but it could have been over so much sooner. In fact, this never would have bloody happened in the first place if Dean hadn't been a selfish twat and dragged Sam out of Heaven just so he wouldn't be left behind. Wanker," Harry muttered, and then winced when he felt the first flash of guilt and regret he had ever felt since getting all three Hallows, at the look of absolute devastation on Dean's face. "Sorry."

"I…" Dean trailed off and clenched his jaw, looking to the side and refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

"Yeah, I know. Fuck, we all make mistakes; I know I did when I was human. I still do. No one's infallible. It was hypocritical of me to point out your own faults, Dean Winchester. I apologise for that," Harry admitted with a pained shrug, then he glanced down at his hand and scowled.

"It's really over? He can't get back out?" Sam finally asked, and Dean glanced at them anxiously. Harry sighed and nodded his head. "But… how was it so... I mean… you made it look so…"

"Easy? Like I said, it really wasn't. I had to lose a fucking finger for this stupid bloody war! And look! It hasn't grown back yet! I'm gimpy! GIMPY!" Harry exclaimed, waving his hand at a shocked and slightly disturbed Sam.

"Er…"

"And I had to hang around with some of the most moronic demons known to existence! I missed out on nabbing an autograph from Kama Chinen because he was scheduled to die on Sam's birthday. Had to keep that window open just because _everyone_ thought the end was gonna happen then. Bad shit happens on your birthday, Sam," Harry informed him, and Sam made a small noise of protest, whilst Dean snorted and nodded.

"He's right you know. Oliver Reed died on your birthday," Gabriel pointed out, and Harry nodded and joined in.

"The Battle of Hogwarts happened on his birthday."

"So, half the wizarding world then. Even _Sam_ died on his birthday, kinda like Shakespeare," Gabriel pointed out, and Sam just gaped at the two.

"No, that was a myth. No one actually knew the exact date that William Shakespeare was born on, they just said it was the same day as his death. I suppose it made it seem a little more poetic," Death pointed out, and Gabriel looked enlightened then glanced over at a still gaping Sam.

"Dean died on May 2nd as well," he said, just to make their point perfectly clear, ignoring the devastated look that crossed Sam's face at the reminder.

"Actually, that was May 3rd," Harry said, scrunching up his nose.

"See! Not my birthda—"

"Dude," Dean muttered, punching Sam's shoulder to shut him up.

"My point is, bad shit happens on your birthday. So I left it open and missed the opportunity to grab the autograph of the oldest recorded human being, ever! Well, muggle human being," Harry added hastily, then glanced over at the Winchesters' and Castiel. "Look, it wasn't easy, okay? You may think it looked easy, but that's because you weren't _there_ for the difficult shit."

"Weren't there? We had a fucking pissed off and insane Crossroads Demon hounding our asses for freaking _months_! I think I even got fleas from his demon mutt! _Demonic fleas_!" Dean hissed, waving his arms around to express his anger, whilst Harry, Death and Gabriel just watched him in amusement.

"Crowley did that as a favour to me. Well, not the fleas. But the rest was a favour to me. He kept you suitably distracted and out of the way. Fuck knows how this would have gone if you two had actually had the time to try and help," Harry muttered, and Sam made a small indignant noise, looking insulted, whilst Dean deflated a little.

"Crowley did that for _you_?" Dean asked in a small voice, and Harry nodded.

"He did a lot for me. I think I owe him for several lifetimes. But I know how to pay him back," Harry added with a smirk, before nodding his head at Gabriel, "_He_ helped me too."

"I don't…" Dean trailed off and looked at Castiel helplessly.

"What I think Dean wishes to ask is, why didn't you tell us from the beginning that you were helping us?" Castiel asked, looking just as confused as Sam and Dean.

"I didn't know from the start which side I was on. Not really. I honestly did want to see what Lucifer would be doing for the world if he was allowed to win. The only side I didn't consider helping out, was the angels. And that was just because Zachariah was a twat and I'd rather he just curl up and die. His vessel is a wanker too. _Hates_ cats! How can you hate _cats_?"

"Er…" Sam opened and shut his mouth a couple of times before he finally settled on shaking his head and shrugging. There really wasn't anything he _could_ say to that question. Not safely anyway.

"Look, never mind. It's over now. Done. Finite. We all have jobs that we need to get back to. Derek, you need to return these to their rightful owners. I don't think we can keep a hold on to their souls for much longer without them," Harry said, taking the rings from Gabriel and passing them over to Death. Death nodded his head and the disappeared from the field, leaving Harry to turn and face Dean, Sam and Castiel once more. Gabriel standing next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I—We—Thank you," Sam finally said, and Harry just shrugged and glanced at Gabriel.

"No need for thanks. I didn't do it for you. It was purely selfish reasons. We need to be going, but Sam, I'll see you when it's time to collect your soul. You too Dean, gotta get your autographs after all," Harry added, then nodded to Gabriel, who smirked at him, waved his fingers at the gaping hunters and the two of them disappeared.

Crowley stood at the edge of the field watching the two Winchester's and their angel just flounder for a few minutes after Gabriel and Harry had left them. Something was then said to the angel, and they soon left to probably another anonymous motel on the side of a road. Crowley shuddered at the thought.

He stayed still for a good ten minutes after the other had left, and then finally stepped out over to the spot where Lucifer and Michael had fallen. He stared at it for a few seconds and then shook his head, a small smirk on his face.

"Should never trust a well-spoken Brit, mate. Thought everyone knew that," Crowley muttered, looking at his hand where he was playing with an old ring with a large stone attached to it. "They're always the ones to stab you in the back. Especially if they've got a Cockney as an acquaintance."

* * *

_December_

Crowley waited for Harry to pass the doorway he had been waiting in before he stepped out and smoothly moved in to step next to Harry, drinking in the sight of the man he hadn't seen for over six months. Really, he had no idea why Harry had been avoiding him and Loki. It was bloody annoying though.

"Crowley. I never said thank you," Harry murmured, glancing at the demon beside him as Crowley relaxed and just walked to wherever it was that Harry was heading. And ignoring the insane, Christmas shoppers of Oxford Street.

"Me being alive is all the thanks I need," Crowley told him with a smirk, and Harry glanced at him out the corner of his eye and then shrugged.

"Perhaps, but I only made you promise to not side with the Winchesters'. You didn't have to do anything else once you promised that. You could have just stayed in your impressively furnished house," Harry pointed out, apparently deciding to ignore the glare that Crowley shot him for that comment. Really, _house_?

"I prefer manor. Still, I might not have had to do it, but I wanted to help you," Crowley admitted quietly, wondering why he had turned so bloody soft when it came to Harry.

"Ah, Crowley. You warm me cockles and me 'eart when you say things like that!" Harry said, in a – Crowley thought - fairly passable impression of someone that has never heard a true Cockney speak in their life. Which just made Crowley shudder, before he snorted and glanced over at Derek then looking back at Harry.

"You'd never believe you were brought up in Surrey. Common little shit that you are," Crowley told him with a smirk, getting a mirroring smirk from Harry.

"I was hardly brought up. More like dragged up," Harry pointed out and Crowley snickered and having to agree to that comment. He'd learnt about Harry's human life years before when they were comparing crappy life choices. Admittedly, Gabriel, the archangel that ran away from Heaven to become Loki, the most hated of the Norse gods, won that competition hands down.

"An' it shows. So, what have you been up to now? Now that you don't have to pretend to be Lucifer's bitch?" Crowley asked, smirking at Harry's indignant little noise of protest at being called _anyone's_ bitch. Though Crowley was secretly just thankful that that whole episode was done and dusted. Harry, when being buggered by Lucifer, was not a pleasant person to be around.

"I never had to pretend anything. I honestly _was_ considering taking his side in this. But... It's very hard to hide your soul and your intentions from Death. Especially if you fuck him. He didn't want any of us to survive," Harry muttered, scowling at the ground in front of him as they walked slowly down the street, last minute shoppers ignoring the trio that they passed in their rush.

"Huh. Wanker," Crowley muttered, looking at Harry and smirking when he saw amusement flit across Harry's face.

"Exactly. Anywho, now? I guess I shall continue doing what I always have," Harry said in his usual, disturbingly chipper tone of voice once more and making both Crowley _and_ Death glance at him warily.

"Save the kittens and frogs of the world, and pester myself and Derek?" Crowley asked drying, scowling when Harry sniggered and nodded his head.

"He does not pester me as much as he does yourself, Master Crowley." Derek told him with a smirk, getting a scowl from Crowley for his efforts.

"Huh. Well, look, I don't mind you randomly popping up on me. You make my existence more interesting at least and you give me tips on where to find the next soul," Crowley finally said after they had walked in silence for a few minutes, and Harry turned to look at Crowley.

"Aw, Crowley! You like me!" Harry said, a wide grin on his face. And really, Crowley thought, like screwing the man wasn't a sign enough that he liked him. Though, he supposed, given the views Harry had on sex, it wasn't really.

"If you wish. Why frogs, by the way? Kittens I get, they're cute. And sort of demonic. But frogs? You lost me with that one." Crowley admitted, and Harry glanced at him before he shrugged.

"I heard a story when I was little. Sort of a variation on Pandora's Box. Only, it was a frog that let out Death. I felt I should thank them in some way. Else I would have never become... me," Harry admitted with a shrug and Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, then frowned when Harry smirked and tugged a sack seemingly out of thin air, making the demon almost entirely forget the previous conversation.

"What's in the bag?" Crowley asked him, eying the bag warily, and actually taking a step back when Harry cackled.

"Should have put it in a box, would have made that question so much more amusing. Besides, I believe you might thank me one day for what I've done. I'll hold on to these for you, Crowley. Uphold my end of the deal." Harry informed him, smirking at the stunned expression on the demon's face when he tugged out a human skull from the bag.

"Is that... _me_? Why would you-?" Crowley broke off his question, looking at the bag that held his human remains, and the only real way to kill him without shooting him with a certain gun.

"It might come as a surprise, Crowley, but... I like you. You, Derek and Loki are the only ones who have ever been able to make me feel anything for any reasonable amount of time. I don't see me dying for a very long time, so... You and Loki had better get used to the idea of living forever. I don't give up those I see as my friends very easily. And let's be honest now, if _I_ don't want you to die, then you won't," Harry admitted with a shrug, placing the skull back in the sack and making it vanish to wherever it had been before, and leaving Crowley feeling a little breathless at that announcement. Really, Harry was making him turn into a fecking girl.

"You're very strange, you do know that, right? Who the Hell admits to likin' _Loki_! He's a damn angel!" Crowley added when it seemed he had lost Harry in his reasoning. He regretted it almost instantly when Harry got a glint in his eyes.

"What? You like Aziraphale, even if you won't introduce us. That's very mean by the way," Harry added, ignoring the exasperated sighs coming from both men on either side of him.

"_Good_ _Omens_ was a work of fiction. Aziraphale doesn't exist. I've _told_ you that," Crowley muttered exaggeratedly, and Derek chuckled on the other side of Harry, knowing just how many times Crowley had tried to convince Harry of the truth. His master was very stubborn in not believing the poor demon though. Which Derek found highly amusing. At least until his master tried to make him wear a black cloak and talk in constant capitals… which Derek wasn't entirely sure on _how_ that was done.

"Fine! But... You've got to admit that you _did_ fuck with the schematics of the M25."

"Oh yes! I did that! And I did have a Bentley too, before that bastard Loki won it from me in poker," Crowley admitted with a scowl, and Harry clapped his hands and chuckled like an excited child.

"I wondered why he had a Bentley."

"Where _is_ everyone's favourite _anti-_Archangel?" Crowley asked, eying Harry's robes suspiciously, and wondering if he was still hanging around inside Harry's many pockets in kitten form. He wouldn't have put it past him.

"He's... Actually, I have no idea. Derek?" Harry asked, looking over at Derek, who sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds before answering.

"Master Gabriel is currently enjoying posing as a sub part of ourselves, Master. He is reaping the soul of an elderly cat. He will probably be with us once he has finished."

"Always knew angels were freaks," Crowley muttered under his breath, before he smirked and patted his jacket before reaching inside. "I say we go to that pub and wait for him. In the mean time, I believe I should return this to its rightful owner, now that the risk of Luci getting his hands on it is over."

Crowley reached out and placed a ring in Harry's expectant hand. The Master of Death had all the Hallows on his person once more. Harry's lips curled into a lazy smirk and wrapped his fingers around the ring. Crowley was just thankful that he no longer had to keep a hold on the thing.


	10. Epilogue

2011

_July_

"So, Harry," Gabriel commented lightly, getting the attention of the other three in the room and immediately making Crowley wonder what the weird Archangel was up to.

"Gabriel…?" Harry said, sounding just as wary as Crowley was feeling.

"I was just wondering something. It's been quite a while since we got any decent autographs. Surely interesting people have died since the Dalai Lama."

"They have, I just haven't had the chance to get any for you. Don't know if you've noticed me hanging around with you two more than usual."

"He's got a point," Crowley finally spoke up, shrugging when Gabriel turned to look at him, wrinkling his nose in distaste over Crowley seemingly sticking up for Harry. Crowley just rolled his eyes in response, refusing to be drawn into yet another pointless, childish argument with the man.

"Psht, so? We never asked him to!" Gabriel muttered petulantly, and Crowley just rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Well, either way, I'm sure I can leave you two alone long enough not to get into anymore trouble, so I'll be getting you some more autographs soon enough," Harry said, and Crowley was silently grateful for the man for nipping any potential bickering in the bud.

"Hey! You're one to talk! You're forever getting into trouble!" Gabriel pointed out. Crowley just mentally groaned, apparently having one argument diverted just gave way to another one. He shouldn't be surprised, he was fairly certain Gabriel argued with himself if he was alone.

"So! Anyone heard anything from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?" Crowley asked, stepping in before Harry could respond to Gabriel's taunt. Derek shot him a thankful look, and Crowley couldn't help but wonder when he and Derek had become the adults of their quartet.

"Actually, I think Sam needs a kitten or something. He makes a strange girly noise and pays an awful lot of attention to me whenever I come across them in Cordelia form," Gabriel told them with a disturbed look on his face. Crowley snorted when Harry perked up at that and smiled.

"I knew I liked him for a reason. Maybe I should get him one for Christmas," Harry mused and Crowley only just stopped himself from gaping at the man. Why he was shocked, he had no idea.

"You do that. I'm not helping you out when Dean decides to shoot you because the cat crapped in his precious car."

"Now that would be something to see!" Gabriel crowed, cackling evilly with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Harry, I demand you to give Sam Winchester a kitten!"

"Okay!"

Crowley groaned and slumped down in the couch. He just knew this was going to come back and bite them all in the arse. Sure, they wouldn't be dying any time soon, but he knew Dean had some dark side to himself that meant they would be in a lot of pain until he got fed up with them.

America made everyone insane in the end. Crowley heaved a huge sigh and just decided to embrace the crazy. Everyone else around him had, so it was probably the only way he was going to survive past the end of this year.


End file.
